Much whinging to follow :

Mood: fairly crabby
Hair: haven't looked yet
Eyes: FUCKED. AGAIN!
Listening to: Buddy rooting around quietly, and my head pound

Yes. The eyes are back to being red and itchy. I went a couple of rounds with the staff at my eye doctor's office yesterday trying to leave him a message to call me (they just kept saying that he would want to see me). I finally did so. Still waiting (he was in surgery all day yesterday, so I don't expect to hear from him till today anyway).

I have a headache, probably tension, centered above my eyes in my forehead. I feel like I resemble Cro-Magnon Woman.

My left wrist hurts. And when I move it, the Rice Krispy dudes start doing their thing inside. I don't know what kicked it over this time, but the clicking-popping-cracking thing is newish. It matches my right knee. I think my warranty must be up.

Sparky and I went at it hammer and tongs yesterday afternoon over some stupid shit. We both are under the weather. He got 'beat up' in gym class (no bruising, though). How does a teenage boy deal with a girl his age who is one giant vat of suggestive comments? Running away doesn't help; she can run too. All his friends call her a nympho. She's annoying but it's like a house-fire: you can't NOT look.

Beast is in Arkansas...and Louisiana...and Kansas...by way of Dallas...this week. Next week, he'll be in Nola. Today is Baton Rouge--the bad-French pronunciation of which does make me smile a little at least.

I have a cataloging meeting over which to preside today. That being on my mind, I woke from a dream this morning during which I discovered that the system headquarters was in the midst of moving to lovely new digs just down the road...the road being a major thoroughfare in a generic Big-Ass City. The HQ is presently, IRL, in a basement under a mall. The only person who showed up to the meeting was PTF. No one else knew where to go so they took the next train back to work (train?? WTF?). And, by the way, the actual meeting is not at system HQ. Somehow, I have merged system HQ with the mall through which I most recently crawled, and tossed in chunks from the mission trip.

Acronyms, ahoy.

And I overslept so that I could have this dream.

All in all, I feel like baked shit on a shingle today. I wish there was a market for that--I'd be a millionnaire a million times over.

My brother-in-law, Dean, has to go back to the hospital to have still more of his leg removed...this time above the knee. Why they don't just call it and take the whole leg I don't know.

My sister, Jean, may not be in any position for the tentatively scheduled surgery to help by the time June rolls around. She now takes 3 hours to eat breakfast. To read something while standing up, she puts the papers on the floor--she's that bent over. She falls down a lot.

The mayhem around us continues unabated: car accidents, teenage angst (not Sparky), family stupidity....

Waaah waaah waaah. "My life for sale--free to a good home"

Two good things: friends with endless patience and good taste in restaurants, and an invitation to a party for an adorable little boy.