I'm back from Christmas/New Years vacation. It was entirely fantastic, if you don't count the part where we had to take my Grampa to the ER because we thought he had had a stroke D: (but he's fine! it was just a UTI, which presents itself with stroke symptoms in the elderly. Brains are terrifying.)
But Addie and Dog are still in Virginia, where they'll be until Saturday.
So what did I do with the place to myself and no one here to judge me?
Ate ramen, gabbed with Leah, watched Teen Mom while enjoying the spa foot bath that Shelby gave me, and read a gossip rag. Basically the same thing that I do every Tuesday night. I have no shame.
Maybe tomorrow I'll start watching my A Clockwork Orange blu-ray before Addie "Kubrick Kibosh" Singleton comes home and... well, puts the kibosh on it.
In other news, I've been off from work for what feels like a month, and I have absolutely no desire to go back.
Can it please ice at least 4 inches tonight, or let Hendersonville become engulfed in a huge blizzard? I just need another week of not doing anything except enjoying my time. And I think I got a little too used to spontaneous napping.
Plus, like, that Ikea bookcase I've been dying for isn't going to put itself together. And there's all those Christmas blu-rays I need to watch. This is important business.
Long vacations have a way of making me come back and feel like nothing is right, normal, or comforting.
Oh, that reminds me, my rent is due.
Which reminds me, my insurance is due.
Which reminds me: yes, I have to go work tomorrow, so I can go to the doctor and get antibiotics for my sinus infection.
better go ruffle all the bed linens and make sure no rapist spider crickets are waiting for me.
And, uh, I google image'd "rapist spider cricket" and this came up. I'll just leave it here.