saxikath

(The random-brain-dump kind, not the pasta kind.)

I cleaned out my closet this weekend and got rid of a bunch of clothes. I foresee a need to buy some new shirts. Anyone want a size-24 pair of purple suede jeans?

Why is it that I can go for ages seeing the same dusty surfaces and not mind it, and then suddenly all at once decide they must be dusted, never mind the fact that I'm in the middle of a conversation at the time?

I wonder if my landlady would let me repaint the living room.

Anyone got suggestions for good places to buy furniture? (Nothing imminent, just pondering.)

Eminem's imminent enemy is an eminent anemone. (Don't ask.)

I need to make slipcovers or something for the couch cushions, since one of them's got a hole in it. Where's Vern when you need him?

I'm great at coming up with plans. Why am I so lousy at getting up the energy to carry them out?

It's odd being a senior editor at work when several of the other editors are older (though less experienced in this business) than I am.

Loneliness. Bah.