This is so much harder than it looks.

Here’s how far I got with quarters before it fell down. I actually got one more layer on there, but then I went wider before going taller, and I lost the compression strength. I think it must be easier without fingernails. I kept nudging things with my nails and found it really hard to square up the pile (as you can see).

This is what I’ll try next. Probably not tonight, though, so don’t wait up.

Here are things I have accomplished in the last few days (that is, “this weekend”).

-Filled new refrigerator/freezer with semi-healthy groceries from Trader Joe’s
-Straightened said refrigerator/freezer
-Vacuumed entryway and entire main floor, prompted by stains and detritus left over from delivery of said refrigerator/freezer
-Removed baby gate from window and stored next to refrigerator/freezer
-Mopped kitchen floor
-Reduced number of boxes of books next to said window from two to one
-Plugged lamp into switched outlet, previously inaccessible due to baby gate storage and top box of books
-Reduced number of VHS tapes stored in other window by half
-Filled no fewer than FIVE Trader Joe’s bags with books and videotapes to be given to the Book Thing
-Straightened out and readjusted and reorganized bookshelves to take advantage of newly freed spaces
-Put away books I made that were sitting around, and organized entire 1.5 shelves of them in rough chronological/subject matter order
-Reunited three treasured books with their dust jackets
-Culled and straightened books on the small bookcase in my bedroom
-Washed and dried four loads of laundry
-Planned new plan for closet to avoid having to page through dozens of never-worn and out-of-season shirts to get to one I’m willing to be seen in
-Organized and culled my toolbox
-Straightened up my hall closet
-Spackled the shit out of a huge hole in my hallway wall
-Complained to the Washington Post about receiving no paper on March 5 and only the bad half on March 12
-Finished watching season 1 of “Battlestar Galactica” [note: would have been best to have disc 1 of season 2 in hand holy crap omfg cliffhanger]

Here are things I will have accomplished by tomorrow morning:
-Vacuum bedroom and under bed (Edited to add: I no longer need to vacuum under the bed as the storage units now cover the floor [this is logical]; I no longer need to vacuum the whole room as the carpet cleaners basically did that; I DO still need to vacuum the corner behind the lamp where the dust bunnies have their never-ending fan convention)
-Give away old inkjet printer (check!) and old serial drawing tablet (check!) to the quickest two of the 30 people who emailed me instantly after I listed them this morning in the free stuff section of craigslist
-Buy under-bed storage units at Target (check!); store extra comforters therein (check!)
-Change sheets on bed (check!)
-Do at least one more load of laundry (check!) (check!) (check!)
-Buy fire extinguisher (Edited to add: I was waiting on this to ask David if there was anything I needed to know beyond ‘ABC.’ He says there isn’t, so it’s still on the list.)
-Put another layer of spackle on said hole (check!)
-Buy sandpaper (check!)
-Launder my spring jacket (check!), which smells like I stored it in a tauntaun all winter

Here are things I will have accomplished by Wednesday night:
-Clean up/pile up things around the house to make room for carpet cleaners, who are coming (at no expense to me) Wednesday at 1 pm to fix stains left on carpet by delivery of said refrigerator/freezer and quite possibly cleaning whole house too yay (Edited to add: I didn’t, but they did, and it’s fine. I did clear the front hall and stairs where the stains were, so it’s fine.)
-Send a kitchen towel to my aunt (check!) and send the hilarious kitchen towel chain letter to six unsuspecting “friends”
-Sand the spackled wall (check! DAMN I am a good spackler.)
-Send Matt his DVDs and books (check!)
-Send a video game I sold used on Amazon (check!)
-Send Mark a present along with his copy of the towel chain letter
-Send my mom a silly present I got her
-Drop off a maintenance list with the landlord

I am, how you say, ON FHAY-ER.

Now, by way of explanation:

One of my least favorite things in the world is riding home on the train in the fall, winter, and early spring, basically Standard Time, when it’s dusk or still light when I enter the Metro system and full dark when the train emerges from the tunnel in Arlington. I hate feeling like the day is over and I’ve missed it. There is so much more energy and hope when it’s still light out when the train comes out of the tunnel. Often I wish I rode the Blue Line instead, where it comes above ground repeatedly and much earlier.

Then, October 19, 2004:

I’m on my way home, and it’s dark.
Usually I attribute this to my having worked too long, but really it’s just the fault of the approaching winter.
It’s raining, light but steady, and the road is wet. The cars leave tracks behind them, and the big trucks send up clouds of mist after their tires. The streetlights shine across the highway, and you can’t see the stripes between the lanes at all.
I’m on the train. I have a headache, hot, behind my eyes, so I’ve taken my glasses off. I’m leaning my head against the window, hoping that will be cool and soothing. Of course the windows on the trains are plastic, not glass, so they aren’t that cool, and the ride is sort of rough, so my head strikes the window over and over again, light but steady, and it’s not helping.
I lean my head against the window anyway. I lean there and sing Leonard Cohen songs to myself.
I’m trying to sing “Suzanne,” but I keep lapsing into the tune, and the words, of “Famous Blue Raincoat” instead.
Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear
This is probably because, unlike “Suzanne,” “Famous Blue Raincoat” actually has a tune. I try, but I keep lapsing.
Suzanne takes you down to her place by the river
You can hear the boats go by and you can spend the night beside her
And just when you want to tell her that you have no love to give her
She gets you on her wavelength and she lets the river answer

The last time I saw you you looked so much older
Your famous blue raincoat was torn at the shoulder

I just thought everyone should see this glory.

An appetizer, Olive Penguins:

A dessert, the Red Menace red velvet cake:

The management apologizes for the low quality and quantity of the pictures. Resources and time were limited.

For some reason, I feel like using stock photos. To decorate. For fun.

I hate it—HATE it—when I let it go this long without updating. I feel such pressure to write, like I have to tell you everything that’s happened, and of course the more I put it off the more guilty I feel. That pile of crossword puzzles upstairs is gnawing at me. I actually really like posting crossword puzzles, but for some reason I’m so daunted by the fact I now have six waiting.

The other day on the Metro I planned out an entry in my head in detail. It was about the strange throwaway things you see on the train, and how odd the stories must be that landed them there.

This was triggered by my seeing, on the edge of my seat, a pencil shaving. How did this happen? Who was sharpening a pencil while they rode the subway, and why? Was it a sketch artist? An editor? A child? Who else uses wooden pencils in this day and age, and, further, who carries a pencil sharpener with them? What were they writing, or drawing, that they needed a sharp point right then, right there on the Orange Line?

Another thing that shows up disproportionately often is children’s play jewelry. I understand that kids lose things, and that maybe a little girl’s tiny bracelet or giant adjustable plastic ring is the sort of thing a parent wouldn’t notice missing or bother to pick up. But I see these things every couple of weeks. The same night as the pencil shaving, there was a pink beaded bracelet in the center of the aisle. Last time it was a silver plastic ring under a seat. If a little girl cared enough to “dress up” to go to the zoo or the Mall or the mall or the dinosaur museum or daycare or Mommy’s office (wherever the train takes them), she must have been heartbroken to realize her pretty jewelry was suddenly gone, left to adorn an inch-wide swath of 1970s orange carpeting.

I’ve discovered a great food. It’s called PotatOh! These are potatoes wrapped in plastic. I know, it’s stupid, why not just buy a regular potato, but listen. They’re the same price. You don’t have to wash them. And the plastic is really tight, so the potatoes stay fresh longer and don’t get eyes growing out of them. You put the whole thing, plastic and all, in the microwave (you don’t even stab holes with a fork), and it comes out seven minutes later perfectly baked. They have sweet potatoes too.

Another great food is what Trader Joe’s calls “Mediterranean cheese style yogurt.” This shit is awesome. I was looking at yogurt, having been led to believe it’s better for you than sour cream, which is a staple of my tastes. Unfortunately this stuff, which is thicker than sour cream and tastes the same, only more so, is in fact worse. But it’s so good.

My refrigerator broke. I didn’t happen to open it for a couple of days, then one day I did, and the freezer was completely thawed. Chicken juice and melted coffee ice cream everywhere. The landlord was lightning-fast to replace it, and I was only a little miffed that they threw away the old one part and parcel, including everything that was inside. They did save my plastic iced-tea pitcher, but they threw away plenty of food that would have been salvageable. I mourn mostly the half case of perfectly good Diet Coke in the crisper drawer.

They warned me the new fridge wouldn’t be brand new, just moved from a vacant apartment, but it is in fact as close to brand new as makes no difference. It has better door shelves and two drawers instead of one, and of course it’s clean. It’s also louder than the old one, but I’ll get used to that.

I’ve been working my ass off on the WDI. It’s sort of like I was still working at CDI. The guilt and stress of doing it while at work, and having to hide that I am, and apparently not doing it as fast as Meta and Chris need, is really getting to me.

Breaking news.
Holy crap, Slobodan Milosevic just died in prison. I wonder if he killed himself somehow.