Shrew

That's kind of what the rainbow I was pondering looked like when I managed to dump half the contents of my delicious chicken curry over my lap.

I am a klutz.

My day was gloomy, like the weather. I went to the Board this afternoon; an office I almost never visit and which I will likely be seeing more of in the future thanks to this new complex. I hate it there. Usually, the Board is comfortable; I know the mediators and even some of the commissionaires at the two other, more regulars ones I visit. This particular office holds horrible memories for me:

I was actually at the Mississauga office when I met the Evil Adjudicator (EA). It was a difficult case, but not completely unfortunate. I suppose the way I remember it is prejudiced. I opened the file, so I presented my evidence first. It was close to the end of the afternoon and when the Tenants presented their evidence, I informed the adjudicator that I had questions but also evidence to present in defense. I was allowed neither opportunity which is completely contrary to the law. (Actually, I probably wrote about this at some other point.) I lost for the first and only time. More importantly, I met my nemesis. Nature is about balance, so there must have existed some sort of evil antagonizer to my justice. I learned his name and also that he rarely worked that office; usually he was at the unmentionable office.

Whenever I visit that office, I tremble in fear that I might see this particular adjudicator again. The nerves start with the initial filing of the application now and I am so thankful, and relieved, when I get there and he is not sitting. Today was a lucky day, except that there was traffic on the way home.

It was all brightened by the rainbow in the east shooting up perfectly bowed into the clouds that were still spewing cold rain down on me. I forget when I stopped loving the rain. Maybe it was about the time when rainbows stopped appearing. I remember seeing it and thinking "It's back! Yay!" or something along those lines. Girlish excitement is hard to muster for a bitter shrew like me. It brightened my day and I almost smiled.

Doesn't it just figure that when I'm thinking about it again, while considering writing in my forsaken (almost) journal that I manage to spill the contents of my lukewarm lunch all over my skirt?

Yes, it does; as long as you're a shrew.

I Guess...

... I got my wish.

Yesterday, I woke up before sunrise with something akin to the black death. I actually called my mother who came over and took care of me. Then, she took me back to her place. I've been here ever since.

I've mostly been sleeping, but I can confirm that Journey to the Center of the Earth was actually pretty good and that Gravol will knock you out, even if it says non-drowsy.

The best part about feeling ill is that I don't feel as bad as I did yesterday morning and my puppy has been sleeping right by my knee keeping watch. He's also been snuggling. He's huge. He's bigger than he was last year. His birthday was on Saturday and he's officially 4 years old. I love him to death and he makes being sick that much better. Aside from nearly knocking he wind out of me when he jumps up and snuggles, he's the best.

At least I'm being productive too: I finally bought some art for my condo. My dad sent me the link to a website that has some gorgeous artwork and I had nothing else to do so I checked it out this morning. I'm so excited about the pair I bought for my bedroom.

Today is going to be a good day. Too bad my cell phone died and I don't have my charger.

I'm Thinking of You

I wish I could transcribe for you the thoughts in my head. You'd think I was crazy, but it doesn't really matter. I'm not sure the jumble is meant to be understood; something about too much emotion, you would say.

I go out with him, and I think of you; of how you'd fill the silence with a joke or make fun of poorly sketched characters before I had a chance to utter a syllable. Nothing would be awkward, just fun. Fun in a different kind of way; like playing with a big brother or... well we don't talk about him.

There's only one person that doesn't make me think of you and that's not always a safe bet either. Sometimes, I wish you were a little more like him. Others, I wish you were just the way you are; safe and far away, because you can't really pine over a dream.

The truth is that you aren't as wonderful as I make you seem. The awkwardness is there and it's confusing. The fun is there, but it's forced somehow, as if you can't really be yourself around me. It's hard to pine for someone that makes you feel that way.

It's easy to dream of someone who makes your heart flutter. A person so perfect, you just kind of know that somewhere down the road, maybe even if you force it enough (or get frustrated trying) will finally be what you need them to be for you and for them. I know you have the capacity to be sweet and even to want to be, but it's so rare that it just throws the insecurity into sharper relief.

So, I'm sitting here typing, instead of calling you as I almost have several times. I'm sitting here remembering that I'm more of a stalker than you are and I should probably change that name or even delete the contact like I said I would. I've never been good at moving on and this time it isn't different; I'm not in love, just really in like. I miss that big brother that would flash that boyish grin and light up his baby blue eyes. Eyes so like yours it makes me wonder.

I'm sure I killed it thoroughly and probably not gently along the way. I'm always messing it up, letting awkwardness get to me and stepping back when what I really want to do is step straight forward. I'm so sorry. Sorry for all the others, sorry for you and sorry that I'm sitting here, thinking about you, when you're probably not thinking of me.

New Guy?

I'm still checking my online dating inbox. I'm not even really sure why because I just end up deleting the messages from the morons who message me. I like properly spelt words, sue me. I think I'm still hoping for something magical to happen - like maybe I won't feel the need to vomit in my mouth a little when I look at who's messaging me.

As usual, I check it first thing in the morning. What's not usual is that I see a picture of someone that I really hope is real. He's adorable and he can spell! This would be strictly a fling but it doesn't really matter. He's kind of witty and I'm enjoying the conversation so far.

Maybe what I need is a little bit of fun. The carefree kind that makes you giggle and eventually puke. Perhaps something a little out of the ordinary for me. While definitely not telling my friends.

(Hello melodrama, welcome back.)

It's more fun if it's secret.

I was talking to the Bahamian this morning about Derek. I'm not really sure how we ended up on that conversation, but we did. We reminisced too which was nice. Sometimes when I start talking about people I haven't spoken to in years, they come back to life; it's as if their ears starting burning and they subconsciously know to contact me. It's strange and probably nothing more than coincidence, but I hope this isn't one of those times. I have no idea what I'd say to him even as simple as "hello". I guess I really dislike him, but I'm still not capable of being a jerk. It's such a rotten pattern.

A break from the monotony is always preferable to something safe and known. I really need to grow up. Or maybe, I just need to stop frustrating myself. At least I can say it's all my fault.

OCD: Closet

I love my condo, but sometimes I forget to share that love with everyone else.

The above photo is a picture of my closet... well closets. Originally, when I bought this place, I noticed that in the master bedroom there was a lot of dead, unusable space, so I had the left hand wall erected and decided to use that as a closet instead of the second bedroom.

The left hand closet looks like the following when open:

The big drawer at the bottom is laundry. Thankfully the woman who helped me design the organization was more thoughtful than I was. It's divided too, because I'm a freak like that. Not enough of a freak to show you my dirty laundry though. The top drawer is a jewelry drawer; it's even lined in velvet.

To the left there are (from top to bottom): shorts, PJs, belts and ties (in the wicker basket) and cardigans. Above the drawers are tees, vests, semi-there tanks and generally "summer" clothing.

Did I say I was a freak yet?

To the left: on the top there are jeans and pants; on the bottom shirts and skirts.

Now, the right closet is the money shot:

Did I mention how my dad took an extra little piece to the right and made room for more shoes?

He did.

Boots and runners are kept in another jacket closet.

I did mention the shopping addiction recently, and now you know why.

I just love my closet. It makes getting dressed lots of fun.