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Monday, September 29, 2003
born in the 70's diaryring, shopping spree
Today a lot of really funny stuff happened, but I don't know if I have the energy to type it all up. Lemme see, just a sec.
Hmm, not yet. So I think I'll just tell you about the ring I just created. It's for anyone born in the 1970's. I personally was born in 1974, and there's no ring for that; I thought about trying to join the 1975 ring (because, you see, I am a ringaholic, and periodically I go on ring-joining binges, as you can see from this page), since I was born at the veeeeery end of 1974, and most of the people in my grade in school etc. were born in 1975. But let's face it, I didn't like most of the people in my grade anyway ;-), and I don't want to be the lone 1974-born imposter on the 1975 ring. Still, I didn't want to experience the mega-rejection that would come from starting a born-in-1974 ring and having not one single person join it (insecurity is my middle name. Well, not really. But still, you get the idea); I figured I'd have more of a chance of getting that validated feeling brought on by having someone actually notice that I exist at diaryland if I left it open to everyone born in the 70's, since there isn't one of those rings either. So. Anyone reading this who was born between 1970 and 1980 (I am not one of those purists who think that a decade or a century can only begin with a number ending in 1, but I'll make a concession to them by including 1980 ;-), go to this page and join up. Um, please?
Today I went to our local True Value (that's a hardware store for those who don't know) to get a $10 package of 5 cardboard under-bed storage cartons, for C's too-big clothes. Mysteriously, the check I wrote was for WAY more than that, even accounting for tax, which is a usurious 8.75%. Perhaps -- and this is just surmise, mind you -- perhaps that had something to do with the 3 32-gallon trash cans, the laundry hamper, the can crusher, and the trash bag liners I put in my trunk. I dunno, the whole thing is kind of a blur, in a shopping-maniacal-haze kind of way. I remember leaving the house thinking, "I REALLY need to get some of those underbed cartons for those clothes I have sitting in my living room waiting for me to sort them." Then I remember being in the store... there's a hazy vision of... what... oh yes, I remember thinking, hmm, that hamper from the bathroom has been broken ever since T sat on it a few months ago; they have hampers; I should replace it... then... my anal-retentive father-in-law is coming by tomorrow to bring C a birthday present; I really don't want him to see LT's recycling area looking like such a mess, I should price garbage cans. Right around then it all gets very fuzzy until I get home and unload all this stuff and get this bizarre-but-familiar feeling -- a mix of "goody goody new stuff for organizing" and "oh dear, how am I going to tell T?" Can I get an amen here, ladies?
My kids are watching one of their old Blue's Clue's videos. I will never look at these videos the same again; I keep picturing Steve's webpage with its cute little mouseover faces. Sooner or later I will break down and buy his album just for novelty's sake. One of my online friends observed the likelihood that the vast majority of his fans will be the parents of Blue's Clue's fans, who discover his music through some incredulous friend telling them, "You will not BELIEVE this!" Kind of like me. :)
I caught the cleaning bug pretty hard today, as you can tell by my hardware store experience (I swear that place is as bad as Wal-Mart). As I mentioned, my FIL is coming over tomorrow, and he is not one of those people who doesn't care if your house is a mess when he comes by. Which is why he schedules his visits like dental appointments, only far, far less frequently. I suppose if he's going to be all anal about what the house looks like, it is good of him to give us advance notice. Anyway, the house is clean and lemony-smelling, but there's still a pile of laundry for me to go through so off I go. :)
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