Each day I am edging closer to the brink of insanity because of the rattling of the rear hatch in my car. It started off as just a small squeak when I'd hit a bump or run over a squirrel (don't look at me like that) but now it's a constant, persistent rattling sound that occurs no matter how smooth the road surface and regardless of my speed.
Every day I intend to ask my husband to come out with a screwdriver and tighten up the latches to fix it because he had success quieting it once before. By the time I get into the house, unburden myself of my coat, boots, and various holiday packages, I inevitably forget to mention it. Or, I'll mention it and Jim will then forget to go out and do it, so either way I end up back in the car at 7:30 the next morning cursing my noisy rear entrance.
Oh, come on, you KNEW I had to make a noisy rear entrance remark. This is ME, people.
It's below-zero here this morning so my hair froze in the 1 minute it took me to walk from the door to the car. I really need to remember that air-drying is never an option in December, even when I'm so bundled up that I resemble a Jawa, as I was this morning. I hate it when my hair freezes because:
1. It's bad for your hair. Duh.
2. It guarantees a horrible flat, staticky hair day.
3. I might catch Swine Flu and diiiiiiieeeee. Ok, probably not, but still. I could.
Those of you who subscribe to comments probably saw that our friendly neighborhood Asian spammers were back last night. I had comment moderation on for over a week and got exactly two comments to reject in that time. Turn off comment mod and within two days I have TWENTY-FIVE spam comments overnight. FMFL!
By this time tomorrow morning I can go off my doctor-mandated diet of twigs, reeds, and assorted berries. YAY!!! I will try not to go salt-crazy after restricting all things tasty for the past 10 days (minus last Saturday night, when I ch-ch-cheeeeeeated. Shhh), but I will be having a very naughty lunch tomorrow. I don't want to give it away, but it rhymes with Shocko Hell, and I CANNOT WAIT. Don't hate. I know it's disgusting, but sue me - I'm a fan, man.
Today, however, I'm having a bland chicken stir fry over plain, unsalted rice, and for dessert: a pear. Try not to be too jealous, ok?
Tomorrow night is my company's dinner party. Considering how much I dislike talking to my coworkers under normal circumstances, the opportunity to mingle with them socially in the company of our spouses does not particularly appeal to me. This year Mala and her hubby aren't even going! Now I will be forced to make small talk with the toolbags instead of simply ignoring them & talking to Mala while I drink free wine & eat spicy Seafood Fra Diavolo like I usually do. Crud.
Eight more shopping days till Christmas. I'm officially hosed.
Later, taters. Stay warm!