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November 20, 2000
Meh!
Holy crap, am I in a foul mood. It's even amazing to me, and I'm no stranger to foul moods. There's two reasons: first off, today is my wedding anniversary. Woo-fucking-hoo. Congrats to me. Barry's birthday was four days ago, too -- I remembered both occasions the other day. My roommate asked me yesterday what I wished for Barry on his birthday. After some thought, I said "I wish he'd get hit by a bus. Then, I wish the ambulance that picks him up would spontaneously burst into flames. After that, I wish the doors of the ambulance would pop open, dumping him onto the road, where he'd be run down by a bus. After that, I hope he gets a hideous, previously-unknown, incurable genital-rotting disease." It's a good thing I'm not bitter, isn't it? Actually, I was serious about any of the above. Really, I wasn't. No, I think he's miserable enough just the way he is -- I couldn't wish any worse on him.
I don't think I'd be so horribly grouchy today if I'd gotten a decent amount of sleep last night. I went to bed at a halfway decent time -- I watched the weird bat-boy episode of the X-Files, and then some of the news, and finally decided to go to sleep at around 11:30. At around midnight, I was woken up by a series of thumps and crashes and bangs coming from the bathroom -- which is right on the other side of the wall my bed is against. The front door is in that direction, too, so I initially thought someone has just arrived home, and so the noise would stop soon, since our apartment is usually pretty quiet at night. It did stop -- for about ten minutes. Just long enough for me to drift off to sleep, and then... "Thump! Thumpthumpthump! Bang!" Then silence. Mildly annoyed, I peeked out into the living room, trying to see what was going on. Saw nothing, heard nothing.... went back to bed. Five minutes later, there was a tentative tapping at my door -- Beth wanted to know if I had any Pepto. I said no, and said -- well, snarled, prbably -- that whatever they were doing had woken me up. She apologized, said she thought I was up. and crept away. I figured whatever the noise was would stop (and felt a little bad, thinking that maybe one of them was sick -- though why that would involve thumping on the walls and floor I don't know.) Went back to sleep. Five minutes later -- more thumping. Thumping and thumping and clattering and banging until 2 a.m. Have I mentioned I have to be up at 5:30 for work? And that I'm a very unhappy person when I'm kept awake? By about 1 or so, I was annoyed enough that I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep even if all noise ceased, so I didn't get up and pitch a fit or anything -- I did get up once, and heard Beth in her office working, so I knew she wasn't the one in the bathroom. I figured whoever was in there was in no shape to talk, so I just went back to bed and played with the cat until I fell asleep. When I got up this morning, I found two notes -- one on the bathroom door warning me that Beth's boyfriend might be passed out on the floor, (he wasn't) and one on my door, apologizing for waking me up. I went and found Beth, and told her that she hadn't woken me up, but her boyfriend had -- she said he'd come home trashed, and spent most of the night on the bathroom floor. The thumping must have been due to the fact that he's a big guy -- very tall and broad-shouldered -- and the bathroom is small. She gave me a ride to work this morning, which was nice of her -- I wasn't really mad by the time I woke up, just tired and grumpy. Luckily, this is a two-day work week for me, since I'll be in Vermont from Wednesday through Sunday. That makes me happy. Other things that make me happy -- it's cold out, so I can wear my fluffy warm sweaters. Fluffy warm sweaters please me. Also, I have gotten nice email lately -- one lovely email from Jen, a short but fun exchange with Jeb, and several emails from a Three Way Action poster in England. (Hi, Richard!) Also some from my cousin, which always makes me happy. And I'll be off work in less than an hour, though I have therapy tonight, so I won't be heading home right away. Weirdly enough, I like therapy -- my therapist is a nice guy, and lets me yammer on and on for an hour without glazing over with boredom. But then, maybe he's just a really good actor...
Posted by Mary Ellen at November 20, 2000 04:37 PM