The continuing saga of bugs in my shower. (No picture today, sorry)
At first I thought it was another GIANT spider, but it turned out to be a mosquito hawk. I don't have anything against mosquito hawks. Anything that eats mosquitos is okay in my book, it's the way they fly around that gives me the creeps. It's so erratic and lacking in direction that I never know where they're going to land next and god forbid they should land on me, so they end up meeting their maker on the sole of my shoe.
But this morning, I decided I would just stand there in the shower (I hadn't noticed him until I was actually in the shower washing my hair) and keep an eye on him. He must have been scared out of his wits because he made a successful attempt to flutter his way out of the shower and finally, out the window.
It's been hot.
This means two things. One, I've left the bathroom window open, and the fact that it lacks a screen means every kind of bug has been finding its way in. It also means that my car will undoubtedly overheat, which it almost did today.
I decided to stop by the post office on my way home because I had to mail something and I needed stamps. First, I stopped to get mother's day cards, and then headed to the post office. While waiting in line, I ran into Jeff, who was kind enough to give me a copy of the new Candies cd. After mailing and buying stamps, I headed back out to the car to leave. My lovely, wonderful, airconditionless car has decided it doesn't want to go anywhere, it won't start. It's done this before. It's as though I can't stop more than one place on my way home, or else the car gets too pooped to continue home. Eventually, after sitting there for about 20 minutes, it started again, and I headed home. BUT as I'm about 3 blocks away, the temperature gauge starts heading north, and I have to turn on the heater (in 90+ degree weather!@#) to make sure I make it home.
It is, without a doubt, time for a new car. Hopefully I can still trade the junk buggy in. I keep joking I'll have to pay someone to take the damn thing from me – it's starting to feel less and less like a joke.
T, one of my coworkers, brought in flowers for everyone yesterday. I think they were from from her garden.
Of course I had to take a picture.
Oh, and Lou Reed is not dead.
My mom went to China in March, and she brought me back this lovely stamp. She stood there and watched as the vendor carved my name right into the marble. Pretty neat.
I'm moving. And I'm a pack rat, I save EVERYHTING, which makes moving even worse. But I'm doing my best, this time, to purge myself of things I thought I needed but really could live without (notes from friends that date back to freshman year of high school!).
So, today, with some help from my bestest friend Wonderwoman, we counted my shoes. She's wanted to count my shoes for a while, because there are lots of them. We collected them from various locations in my small apartment and laid them out on the living room floor. The pictures really don't do them justice.
It turns out I had 68 pairs of shoes. Fifteen of them were Dr. Martens.
Once your feet stop growing, you can buy shoes without fear of outgrowing them. So you can buy more and more, and still be able to wear them for years to come...which is what I love about them.
But 68 pairs? It really is too many. So I ended up donating about half of them to the goodwill. I'm sure they'll find good homes.
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