Or have I been too busy and sleepy to notice? This is very likely. I don't like it. How do I post pictures? How do I do anything? I feel like someone came in and rearranged all my furniture while I was at work! Who do I complain to?! And what the everloving hell is a MIME Type? There are many things I know. That is not one of them.
Edit: It appears to be working now. BUT FOR HOW LONG?!
Little kids are strange. I'm sure I've said it before, and will again, but hey, it's true. Here is a conversation I had three minutes after walking into a kindergarten class:
LV: Hi, I'm Miss Elle-
Kid 1: Are you married?
LV: I... what?
Kid 2: Are you married?
LV: Um... no.
Kid 1: Why not?
Kid 2: Are you engaged?
Kid 1: Do you have a boyfriend?
LV: Uh... have you been talking to my grandmother?
Then they insisted on calling me 'Mrs.' all day, despite my gentle reminders of singledom. According to the other young single teacher, they do this to all women. It's just their way. But isn't that weird? Are all adults married in the minds of children? When did this start?
My phone is still out of control, and my Gmail has collapsed for reasons I can't begin to suss out.
It's raining and cold and foggy out. But I am warm, for once, and shall make tea and popcorn after a dinner of soup, and all will be well.
I went to Borders today, ostensibly to buy a planner. And I did, and it's perfect and beautiful and only cost twenty bucks. Then I bought books. Of course:
* Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books - Azar Nafisi
* Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier - Ishmael Beah
* Interesting Times - Terry Pratchett.
I'm trying to read more non-fiction. And finish the Discworld series. I still have thirteen or so books to buy before I own them all. I'm so happy - it will take me some time, since I only allow myself to read one at a time, so theoretically if Terry Pratchett doesn't get any sicker and writes a lot, my book supply could last another year or two. Is that a shallow reason for me to wish the man health? Yes, but I doubt he cares.
Why does everything that isn't a book BREAK when I look at it? The internet is wonky, my phone HATES me for complicated reasons, and even the TV is flickering ominously. Maybe I have a poltergeist.
I'm working tomorrow, then I get to enjoy a blessed weekend of- no, wait, scratch that. I have to spend the weekend with my grandparents and other assorted relatives, because my older cousin is getting married (so guess who gets to hear the 'spinster speech' yet again? I've told my grandmother very calmly that if Hugh Laurie gets a divorce, or if James Franco or Adrien Grenier calls her, I will be married in a heartbeat. But barring that, there's slim pickings for eligible men-folk in Jersey. Besides, I'm 22 (almost 23 - ugh), and it's not like people my age should be getting married anyway, generally. She makes me feel like I'm forty-five, and obligated to provide a male heir to a fading empire). I'll bring a lot of books, and my broken phone, and try to make it through with a touch of dignity.
I'm hungry. Is dinner ready yet?
- LV
Edit: It appears to be working now. BUT FOR HOW LONG?!
Little kids are strange. I'm sure I've said it before, and will again, but hey, it's true. Here is a conversation I had three minutes after walking into a kindergarten class:
LV: Hi, I'm Miss Elle-
Kid 1: Are you married?
LV: I... what?
Kid 2: Are you married?
LV: Um... no.
Kid 1: Why not?
Kid 2: Are you engaged?
Kid 1: Do you have a boyfriend?
LV: Uh... have you been talking to my grandmother?
Then they insisted on calling me 'Mrs.' all day, despite my gentle reminders of singledom. According to the other young single teacher, they do this to all women. It's just their way. But isn't that weird? Are all adults married in the minds of children? When did this start?
My phone is still out of control, and my Gmail has collapsed for reasons I can't begin to suss out.
It's raining and cold and foggy out. But I am warm, for once, and shall make tea and popcorn after a dinner of soup, and all will be well.
I went to Borders today, ostensibly to buy a planner. And I did, and it's perfect and beautiful and only cost twenty bucks. Then I bought books. Of course:
* Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books - Azar Nafisi
* Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier - Ishmael Beah
* Interesting Times - Terry Pratchett.
I'm trying to read more non-fiction. And finish the Discworld series. I still have thirteen or so books to buy before I own them all. I'm so happy - it will take me some time, since I only allow myself to read one at a time, so theoretically if Terry Pratchett doesn't get any sicker and writes a lot, my book supply could last another year or two. Is that a shallow reason for me to wish the man health? Yes, but I doubt he cares.
Why does everything that isn't a book BREAK when I look at it? The internet is wonky, my phone HATES me for complicated reasons, and even the TV is flickering ominously. Maybe I have a poltergeist.
I'm working tomorrow, then I get to enjoy a blessed weekend of- no, wait, scratch that. I have to spend the weekend with my grandparents and other assorted relatives, because my older cousin is getting married (so guess who gets to hear the 'spinster speech' yet again? I've told my grandmother very calmly that if Hugh Laurie gets a divorce, or if James Franco or Adrien Grenier calls her, I will be married in a heartbeat. But barring that, there's slim pickings for eligible men-folk in Jersey. Besides, I'm 22 (almost 23 - ugh), and it's not like people my age should be getting married anyway, generally. She makes me feel like I'm forty-five, and obligated to provide a male heir to a fading empire). I'll bring a lot of books, and my broken phone, and try to make it through with a touch of dignity.
I'm hungry. Is dinner ready yet?
- LV
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