How much is Peggy Hill paying you to be a jackass?

...is my new favorite insult.

Last night I dreamt in memories. And I knew it wasn't happening for real and I recognized the familiarity while even exhibiting some control over the details, but I wasn't completely lucid. So I wake up early for seventeeth day in a row.

Sophie slept on my side of the bed last night. She's usually by MelRo's legs, probably because she's allowed to be there, whereas I have no problems kicking her off the bed while I'm sleeping. Last night she didn't budge and I didn't fight it too much. I think she was feeling needy because I was gone for nearly 24 hours over the weekend. And this morning she gave me the heartbreaking look that says "I can't believe you're leaving me this way". The real one, not the fake sad one she puts on when company's over and she's trying to look pitiful about sitting in the crate. I tried not to let it phase me too much as I put on my coat and while walking out the door I said "don't worry, mommy will be home soon." If by "soon" I meant seven hours from now, which I did. It's all relative to a dog. And people too, frankly. It all depends on which side of the line your on and whether you don't want the end of the seven hours to come or if you hardly seem able to hold yourself together and last the seven hours. But I'm rambling.

The real reason for writing is to do a big public thank-you to redrider for her fabulous mix CD's that I received in the mail on Saturday afternoon. I was so excited by the track listings and I've thoroughly enjoyed them during the few hours I was actually home this weekend (not sleeping), and now I'm listening to them at work. Thank you redrider!

Which brings me to the next point -- this week I'll finally start putting together the mix CD's to mail out, so if you filled out my poll from weeks ago, you'll probably be hearing from me in some fashion in the next week or so.

I know I just voluntarily got tortured this weekend, but...

Slim just came out of her office and is standing at the garbage can approximately 6 feet from my desk and is clipping her nails. I'm going to die.

If you love me or like me, you'll never never never never clip your nails in front of me. I don't even care about the nail clippings themselves. It's the sound. The high pitched clipping noise and the ringing that follows and sound of keratin hitting metal and then my own fingernail exhibit sympathy pain and discomfort.....it's maddening. My ears hurt.

She finally finished. I should buy her a pair of nail scissors. I don't mind people cutting, just not clipping. And not at work for crying out loud. You can torture me by doing it in bed the morning after, but there's a bit of license that goes along with that. Not in the workplace though. That's sexual harassment.