(no subject)

I swear, if anything else wakes me up before noon tomorrow, I'm going to kill it. In the last three days I've had phone calls, obnoxious children and workmen shock me out of sleep. What good does my weekend do me if I can't sleep in? Once I'm up it's nigh impossible to go back to any useful kind of sleep.

hello rain

Work is decidely dreary, even with having stuff to do. I've pulled more certs tongiht than I have in weeks, and it almost feels like last summer when I was routinely doing 50 a night. Still, I'm restless.

Canned salmon is so foul the cat won't go near it. I knew I shouldn't have trusted the recipe. It's one thing to go fishing, catch fish and clean them yourself. It all seems very natural that way. But to open a can and find a spinal cord in a mass of pink meat is rather disturbing. Never, ever, ever again will I be so foolish. From now on the only canned fish products in my home will be anchovies and tuna fish. Anchovies for my pizza and salads, tuna fish for our spoiled Tsar Slate.

Ugh. I mean, hello they don't leave bones in the tuna. Why do they leave them in? It's just weird. I don't even know why I'm so grossed out by it, because I've gutted a few fish in my time. I suppose it's just because I don't expect to open a can and find bones.

Why do I have such bad luck when I try to do anything other than bake? I'm lucky I can boil pasta and heat up microwave foods, or I might starve without Alan.

I drove to work in the sun, and watched the cloud bank slowly cover us. It rained for a bit earlier, cool spring like rain. Today was my father's 52nd birthday.