raybear | Don't take it personal, girl that's how thugs do.

Yesterday was the first time in my life I regretted calling in sick. I mean, I've felt guilty before, but I never truly wished I had gone in. But yesterday, after taking a naproxen and calling in and going to sleep, I was awakened to move furniture. Yes. The repair guys came in to replace windows, and even the the note said to only clean off the windowsills, appararently they needed a five foot radius of space in front of all the windows in the living room, foyer, and bedroom. Which means we had to move the couches, the entire stereo setup and surrounding area, and the bed. I could barely find a place to sitdown, much less lay down. Sophie was freaking out by the commotion and strangers, plus she was shivering because there were no windows in our living room and it was 45 degrees outside yesterday.

I took her to the dog park to get us both out of the house (after a trip to Einstein's with MelRo) and then I went to throw rocks at Riley's apartment to convince Vanessa to hang out with me yesterday. It worked.

In the afternoon we went to the notorious Village Thrift and not only did I buy a sweater with rainbow stripes across the chest, but I also found a grey v-neck sweater that said "Immaculate Conception High School" on the left shoulder. I also found more pants, hopefully some that will fit me better than current ones which are constantly falling off.

Last night we just laid on the couch on top of the curtains and paraphenalia, watching Buffy reruns and eating Totino's frozen pizza. Our apartment looks like we're in the middle of moving. Or being bombed. Well, not so much the latter now that we have new windows and they cleaned up the mess. I don't want to leave the house this weekend.

Oh, and I have no hair. It's sexy.