I painted my toes this nice bright, shiny green. And then I had this nice bright, shiny purple crackle nail polish that I was going to put on top. Well, it looked bright and shiny in the bottle. On top of the green it looks muddy and not crackled so much as I've been trapesing through a creek and didn't have time to wash my feet. So I put a gloss over it and somehow it looks awesome. It makes no sense to me.
Sunday work called me and asked me if I could stay late for my Tuesday (today) shift. Then yesterday (Monday) while I was buying groceries they called again and asked me not to come in at all. (Douches.) So I woke up this morning thinking it was Monday (it wasn't), and all day I've continued to think that, even after correcting myself. I feel like tomorrow is Tuesday (it's not) because I work early and I didn't today. My whole week is screwed up now. (Douche-y work.)
I just wanted to write a paragraph with a lot of unnecessary asides, so I complained about work. I am annoyed that I lost those hours though... on a related note.
I've been watching Phineas and Ferb on Netflix streaming. When we had cable I thought the show was hilarious and I used to DVR new episodes. Now Netflix brings me new episodes and I pay a lot less per month for that. I hope when we have kids that this show is still on the air so I can plop their chubby little baby selves in front of the TV to zone out on it for hours at a time.
Just a moment ago, I yanked my glasses off, tossed my laptop aside on the couch, and raced into the kitchen to possibly vomit in the sink. (Jeremy's in the bathroom.) I didn't, but now I'm trying to figure out why I'm nauseated but not about to puke. I hate that feeling. Like I'm going to be sick but I'm positive I won't actually spew. But I still feel like I will.
I have three new short stories making their way around in my noggin, and I feel pretty good about at least one of them being finished before my mini-vacation in October. I'll still post while I'm gone because we're going to a Renaissance Festival and what isn't fun and noteworthy about those? (That's not sarcasm either.) I'll post the story on my fiction page here. Where I haven't posted anything in like, two years. I need to clean up some of the work on there. It reads like it was written by a 16 year old, cause I was about 16 when most of the stuff was written. Don't judge too harshly.
