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This year has kept going with the bang that started it on New Year's Day--if you define bang as car trouble and car repairs. Weeks and weeks of it.
I think I'm actually nearing the end of it as I get new tires and brakes. At least, this is what I tell myself to keep from melting into despair.
In other, nicer news, I just completed performing in a play over the weekend, Suite Surrender by Michael McKeever. Weeks of preparation and making new friends.
I played a 1940's diva who can't get enough of the men. Fun role, I must say!
We goofed off quietly backstage. Part of that was smoking pretend cigarettes as our characters would have, then taking glamour shots, and eating cherry pie. Yes, the song from Poison immediately springs to mind.
I wore fake eyelashes. Yay. If you have never worn them before, all I can tell you to prepare is that they feel like bugs on your eyelids. Once I got used to having long-legged bugs weighing down my eyelids, I was just fine.
BunnBunn is eating my house. (Hand-smack to the face.) I love him. I really do. He's driving me nuts by just doing what bunnies do. At any rate, his cute factor is more than his driving me nuts factor.
Speaking of animals: I had a run-in with a bat. Yes, a BAT, I shudder to say.
As I was closing up the office last night, I noticed what looked like a bird flying around. It didn't take long to realize it was no bird. He darted here and there, within what felt like 2" from my face.
I may or may not have let out a few lady-like screams. Nobody was around to witness, so the question will just hang out in space. I think I'd rather see a ghost.
The little guy finally landed on the floor, and I trapped him with a trash can.
That was it. I did my duty. There was no way I could even think about getting that creature back outside. I was already fighting the urge to vomit, and my insides were quaking like I'd just taken a joy ride through Hell.
Thanks to C for coming to let him loose outside.
And it was a couple hours before my insides settled down. I'm still getting squeamish just thinking about it.
And this has no relevance to anything else I wrote above, but my backpack is nicknamed my bag of bricks. Actually, whatever bag I am carrying for the day is nicknamed my bag of bricks.
It is heavy enough that my car thinks it needs a seatbelt. One block up the road, and my car dings at me to tell me to buckle in that bag of bricks.
It shouldn't be that heavy.
What's inside that mysterious bag? My laptop, 4 notebooks (because you simply can't live life with fewer than 4 on you at all times), no--make that 5 notebooks. Each serves a specific purpose.
Then there is my planner. I still use paper. Google calendar doesn't need to know all my business. Plus, I just read paper better than a screen.
There are the papers and envelopes of the day. Then there are chargers for my phone and laptop. Um... at least 9 to 23 pens, pencils, and other writing utensils.
Emergency grooming supplies. Yes, I have come to 5:00 in the afternoon some days and wondered if I actually remembered deodorant that morning. So you see the necessity there.
A binder clip. Business cards. Sunglasses. Regular glasses. One of the current books I'm reading. My phone.
My wallet. That's its own little bag of mysteries. Money & cards, business cards, stamps, a checkbook, more pens (because I need more pens), 1 chap stick, 1 lip gloss, 2 lip sticks. An Aldi quarter. The essentials.
Then throw in dancing shoes and a water bottle. Sometimes a pincushion and a few sewing supplies.
Just the essentials. That's my bag of bricks.
Now I'm ready to go anywhere.
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