Is hypoglycemia contagious?
I got home about 7:15 tonight, and I was cranky. Teh Dawg, after being left alone all day, was a bit too excited at my belated arrival, and I really just wanted her to shut up and go away. I yelled at her and raised my hand as if to hit her. She slunk away and I felt sad. And then irritated.
Speaking of evil, I was in a meeting for $evil_project today and it was one of the most uncomfortable experiences I've ever had. I watched one rather successful - and tough - $investigator fight back tears when confronted with a decimated budget. She's taking this whole thing very personally. She may have a reason, though. At one point she uttered the (what seemed to me) non sequitur: "Am I being laid off?" She was reassured on that point, but she's clearly not happy about her potentially redefined role. That makes me sad, too, since I have a great deal of respect for her. I really wish I hadn't been in the room for that meeting, though.
On Wednesdays, I call my mom. I think I got my OCDness from her - regular schedules and knowing what to expect when makes us comfortable. The big news from down South is that my grandfather now has a new puppy. Well, new for him - the puppy is 7 years old and previously belonged to an elderly man who died. My 87-year-old grandfather is more nervous than a new parent, I think. Every time the dog whines, he calls my mom. In the long run, this is a good thing for him. He spends far too much time alone.
And, speaking of critters, on my walk home from the T-stop, I see a dead skunk against the curb. The first day I saw it, I thought it was a stuffed toy - all fluffy and brightly colored. Even that first day, it didn't smell, and for the past couple of weeks, I've watched it flatten out and get dingy. It's still remarkably fluffy, though.
My own critters weighed in on my singing ability tonight. I have a seriously inferior singing voice, but singing is something that often makes me feel better. Especially singing Ani Difranco or Tori Amos or Concrete Blonde. Tonight, it was Tori Amos. "Leather," from Little Earthquakes. That album reminds me of the person I was in college and helps me to forget about the knots in my back and the petty irritations of being an adult.
It's not her fault of course. My muscles have taken on the density of bone. My head hurts. And I hadn't eaten since lunch. That last bit shouldn't have mattered, though. I used to eat, oh, at least once every couple of days, and it just didn't matter. Recently, though, I've really had to eat regularly or I become evil. I blame iGrrrl's hypoglycemia germs.
Speaking of evil, I was in a meeting for $evil_project today and it was one of the most uncomfortable experiences I've ever had. I watched one rather successful - and tough - $investigator fight back tears when confronted with a decimated budget. She's taking this whole thing very personally. She may have a reason, though. At one point she uttered the (what seemed to me) non sequitur: "Am I being laid off?" She was reassured on that point, but she's clearly not happy about her potentially redefined role. That makes me sad, too, since I have a great deal of respect for her. I really wish I hadn't been in the room for that meeting, though.
On Wednesdays, I call my mom. I think I got my OCDness from her - regular schedules and knowing what to expect when makes us comfortable. The big news from down South is that my grandfather now has a new puppy. Well, new for him - the puppy is 7 years old and previously belonged to an elderly man who died. My 87-year-old grandfather is more nervous than a new parent, I think. Every time the dog whines, he calls my mom. In the long run, this is a good thing for him. He spends far too much time alone.
And, speaking of critters, on my walk home from the T-stop, I see a dead skunk against the curb. The first day I saw it, I thought it was a stuffed toy - all fluffy and brightly colored. Even that first day, it didn't smell, and for the past couple of weeks, I've watched it flatten out and get dingy. It's still remarkably fluffy, though.
My own critters weighed in on my singing ability tonight. I have a seriously inferior singing voice, but singing is something that often makes me feel better. Especially singing Ani Difranco or Tori Amos or Concrete Blonde. Tonight, it was Tori Amos. "Leather," from Little Earthquakes. That album reminds me of the person I was in college and helps me to forget about the knots in my back and the petty irritations of being an adult.
I really launched into the song (what with ana being at choir rehearsal). Teh Dawg lifted her head and began to whine, and then howl. Youngest kitty Silas got up from his nap, mewing and walking over to see if I was okay. Fat kitty Simon tried to climb my leg. I need no further proof that I should never sing in public.
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