The Morning After

Alright, I've decided that that first post is insufficient as far as riveting beginnings go. It's 8:15 am on a Saturday and I'm wide awake, which doesn't seem healthy for someone my age, but it's windy outside, and the breeze kept coming in through my open window and pulling my door open and shut. Naturally, my dog thought this meant that my mom must be coming to take him outside, which is not altogether an unreasonable conclusion for someone who enjoys Jerky Treats with such an indecent enthusiasm, but it meant that, despite me taking him outside and then locking him back up in my room so that both my parents and I could get some sleep, he made a break for it the next time the door opened wide enough for him to get his snout wedged in there. A chase ensued, many angry whispers were made, my mom was woken up, and Farley ended the whole thing by looking ridiculously cute by sitting there looking ashamed, but still with his Milkbone in his mouth.
For once, it's a Morning After where I don't regret the night before. Well, that's a bit of a sensationalised version of that statement. Usually my less-than-advisable nighttime decisions are of the mostly harmless variety, such as dying my hair purple or getting my eyebrow pierced, but I still feel horrified that I decided that the next day, even though I don't go through with them. This from the person who's had five piercings (even if they are all in my ears) and blonde, red, pink, orange and blue hair. Oh, well. A lot of things instill horror in me these days, but I suppose that anything that stops me from spending money unnecessarily is a good thing. Besides, I have at least some pseudo-legitimate reasons for keeping a blog. I have friends outside of Edmonton (Kaitlyn, Jo and Eric, Sally, Sean, Doug...) who might like to know what's going on around here. I suppose it's not too big-headed of me to assume there's something worth them knowing about. ^_^ And it's not like I'm forcing the world to read my most intimate thoughts and feelings so that they understand me and can sympathize and tell me I'm beautiful and yada yada. I've seen that done. It wasn't often pretty. But, yeah, I have my own journal, and no part of me is big on the gut-spilling-in-a-chaotic-but-releasing-way shtick, so y'all should be fine. Then again, I'm sitting here justifying this to myself, so maybe this is a good time to be blissfully un-self-aware. ^_^
I need something to do today. Something that isn't laundry. Well, actually, I need to do laundry, too, so maybe I should just consider the whole deal two birds with one stone and be happy about it, dammit, but, really, laundry does not excite me that much. Despite how hard television tried to brainwash me with the character of Danny Tanner from Full House, I just don't love the smell of bleach in the morning. In fact, I don't even have a whole load's worth of whites, so the best allure the task presents to me is colour-safe bleach, which, as we all know, is a weak and inferior substitute.
Oh, well. Maybe I'll go look at showhomes with my mom. She's been a little obsessed with them ever since we put the second deposit cheque on our new house. She bought a very glossy magazine-ish book called "Fifty Dream Kitchens" the other day. I flipped through it and summed it up in three words: Woods, Whitewashes and Stainless Steel. Well, fine, four words, but three terms. What's really bad is that I was left a little breathless. Some of those kitchens were really, I mean _really_ nice. (And no, I'm not bothering with html tags just yet.) If only our new house was, I dunno, at least _North_ of 23rd ave. *sigh*
Oooh, or maybe I'll get my mom to come shopping with me! I can tell her that she needs to buy clothes for her October cruise to Hawaii while all the summer stuff is on sale. She'll totally see right through that, though, because I keep giving her a rough time about how many vacations she's taking this year (three weeks driving the Oregon Coast in May, two weeks in Holland in June, a cruise to Hawaii in October, a weekend in Vegas in November...), but, hey, anything that means I have advance permission to get her to pay for things is good by me. I wanna go peruse Gap's new denim. Then agian, that should wait until the weekend of August 4th, I think it is, when I'll have that handy-dandy Friends and Family discount, courtesy of Joyce. :-)
Okay, it's now half an hour later and this post is looking pretty damn long. Here's hoping people actually find this thing worth reading! Oh, and this reminded me: I don't have a current e-mail adress for Doug, so if someone could give it to me, that'd be great. Yay, Doug coming back on the 29th!