That Isn’t Helping.

Remember a while ago when I revealed that our new apartment was located directly beneath the seemingly constant and deafening lovemaking of the people above us? While we’ve since learned that our upstairs neighbors are nice people who do, in fact, come up for air once in a while, we have also learned that our downstairs neighbors, the washer and drier, sound the same as our upstairs neighbors do when they’re getting down with their bad selves. They are nigh indistinguishable from one another, which has led to some confusing feelings about laundry. So when the timing is just right and you are trying to, say, face plant into the quiet solitude of your bedroom as soon as you walk in the door after work, you might instead be treated to the cacophonous sounds of the spin cycle beneath you and a different kind of spin cycle above you.

I’m looking forward to the day that my brain becomes numb to all rhythmic thumping sounds, but it probably won’t be soon enough for me to take a quiet nap in my apartment.

Pauline, this is for you.

It’s the one and only video I took on the day we moved.

It has everything: drama, intrigue, taylor ham sandwiches, Eric’s beard in living color….

It’s pretty much the day in a nutshell.

This is for being a loyal reader, and a prolific blogger

I am not pregnant, but

I’ve never wanted so badly to be hiding a secret pregnancy that I was too afraid to talk about, because if I were someone on craigslist would pay me $3,000 to reveal my terrible secret to the world! Damn the man! Damn my responsible reproductive choices! Damn you, empty uterus!

Unfortunately, even if I were pregnant, hiding it, and afraid, I don’t think they’d want to talk to me because I’m not 14 years old and using my allowance to buy suspicious amounts of Sudafed. Damn the man again!

The terrible things I would do for money right now kind of scare me, but the things I would consider doing for money are downright disturbing.

Mother Nature, thou art cruel.

I woke up this morning and did a triple take at the view from my window. Wha-wha-WHAAAT? Snow?? Where was the 48 hours of news coverage? Where was the panic and sense of impending doom? I feel thoroughly let down by meteorology and all those who ascribe to it.

I was supposed to be on my way to Noah’s Ark Animal Shelter to begin my life as a volunteer cat cuddler. I was going to write a post being all “Wish me luck! Let’s hope I come back with only one box-full of animals instead of three!” But nooooo. Snow. Now we can’t go for a walk in the woods adjacent to the shelter. Hmmph. I suppose that’s what rescheduling is for.

In view of this morning’s events, I feel I deserve a sausage and egg sandwich from Mountain Lake Bagel. Indeed.

Piglet Porn.

Ask the readers:

After a week of listening anxiously to my roommate’s unrelenting coughing, hacking, and sounding generally ill, I’ve come to the conclusion that she has an obvious and fairly serious case of swine flu. Sickness in the household is a touchy subject during the best of times, so my question for you is: How do I broach the subject? A note on the fridge? A cake shaped like a pig next to some flu medication? A stack of newspapers from the past two weeks or so delivered to her bed? I need your guidance now more than ever.