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I woke up at five am and proceeded to spend the next four hours folding laundry, most of which was not mine, which only went that much farther toward proving to me that being a daywalker is completely pants.
Also, waiting a month to fold the laundry that is usually separated in piles on the floor as "Clean" "Dirty" and "Either/Or, probably wearable again" is a bad idea, and one my husband should be smacked for.
Just because I don't bother with housework on a regular basis, is no reason for him to be so sloppy.
Yeah, I know, hush.
Anyway - at nine I finally managed to wake up Sleeping Beauty (conveniently enough right after I finished folding the last load of laundry I found in the dryer), and twenty minutes later I managed to force him out of bed because I had things to do today and I needed his help for the first one.
Which was dying my hair.
Yes, I make my husband help me dye my hair. I'm totally outing him right now. He would hate me if he ever bothered to log in to his LJ and checked his flist, but he doesn't so I'm probably safe. I usually only make him help when I'm going lighter because there is nothing worse than finishing a dye job, drying your hair, and discovering a big old patch of random darker colored hair hiding in the back.
Anywho, while I was waiting my half hour of hair trauma time, he took the dog to the kennel. Little bugger didn't even bother to glance back as they lead him away, no, he was all wagging tails and skippy feet. Weird dog loves that place. Except when he's have his bi-polar satanic doggy moments, but they say they just don't let him out at that point and come back an hour later and he's all waggy and grinny again. My dog has some serious brain issues. All my pets do, for that matter. Except Roswell the cat, but I'm pretty sure she's part alien so that could explain why she's sort of normal comparatively, she's trying to blend in.
Can you tell I'm loopy? I think you can.
So then, after being nagged for the last two days to call some people and see if they wanted to go see a matinee of Pirates Three: This time we fall over the cliff and there be things what make you dead...er, Captain decided to call some people and see if they wanted to go see a matinee. So at 11:45 they decided we would meet up for the 12:30 show. Did I mention I wasn't even dressed yet, and my hair was still mostly wet? But a lovely shade of copper that we've been trying to recreate since we lived in the attic apartment in 2001, so yay for finding that color again.
Pirates Three: Ttwfotcatbtwmyd is good, btw, and I shall be nice and not spoil other than to say it's better than Two, not as good as One, has Davy Jones, lots of monkey (MONKEY!!!) and don't forget to wait out the credits. It would have been much better but for the family that decided to bring the six month old. To a loud movie with cannons. That other people really wanted to see. On opening weekend. Where the six month old SCREAMED for most of the movie.
A bajillion hours later, around four pm, we left the theatre and snagged something to eat and by this point I have been up way too long, coupled with stressing out and not feeling well, and I really just want to go home and nap (actually, to be specific, I wanted to stay home and nap before the movie but Captain pulled the puppy eyes and said he didn't want to go if I didn't want to go so I went, and it was good, but I was so tired), but we had to go to Volde-Mart. I cut the shopping trip extremely short because I seriously did not feel well at that point, and passed out pretty much as soon as we got home, until![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rewil called at eight.
Which was good because after I got off the phone with her at eight thirty (she was bored and I was too lazy to get out of bed for a bit, and there was bitching to be done and then random tangents to go down and the very emphatic declaration that a corner rounder is possibly the single greatest scrap book tool EVAH) I managed to pack my bags for tomorrow's trip and started browbeating Captain to stop goofing off on his RPs and take care of his packing because I really don't want to be running around at six am tomorrow trying to remember where the phone charger is and why the car has no gas and did we get money for the toll?
So... yes.
Sorry, that was random.
Also, waiting a month to fold the laundry that is usually separated in piles on the floor as "Clean" "Dirty" and "Either/Or, probably wearable again" is a bad idea, and one my husband should be smacked for.
Just because I don't bother with housework on a regular basis, is no reason for him to be so sloppy.
Yeah, I know, hush.
Anyway - at nine I finally managed to wake up Sleeping Beauty (conveniently enough right after I finished folding the last load of laundry I found in the dryer), and twenty minutes later I managed to force him out of bed because I had things to do today and I needed his help for the first one.
Which was dying my hair.
Yes, I make my husband help me dye my hair. I'm totally outing him right now. He would hate me if he ever bothered to log in to his LJ and checked his flist, but he doesn't so I'm probably safe. I usually only make him help when I'm going lighter because there is nothing worse than finishing a dye job, drying your hair, and discovering a big old patch of random darker colored hair hiding in the back.
Anywho, while I was waiting my half hour of hair trauma time, he took the dog to the kennel. Little bugger didn't even bother to glance back as they lead him away, no, he was all wagging tails and skippy feet. Weird dog loves that place. Except when he's have his bi-polar satanic doggy moments, but they say they just don't let him out at that point and come back an hour later and he's all waggy and grinny again. My dog has some serious brain issues. All my pets do, for that matter. Except Roswell the cat, but I'm pretty sure she's part alien so that could explain why she's sort of normal comparatively, she's trying to blend in.
Can you tell I'm loopy? I think you can.
So then, after being nagged for the last two days to call some people and see if they wanted to go see a matinee of Pirates Three: This time we fall over the cliff and there be things what make you dead...er, Captain decided to call some people and see if they wanted to go see a matinee. So at 11:45 they decided we would meet up for the 12:30 show. Did I mention I wasn't even dressed yet, and my hair was still mostly wet? But a lovely shade of copper that we've been trying to recreate since we lived in the attic apartment in 2001, so yay for finding that color again.
Pirates Three: Ttwfotcatbtwmyd is good, btw, and I shall be nice and not spoil other than to say it's better than Two, not as good as One, has Davy Jones, lots of monkey (MONKEY!!!) and don't forget to wait out the credits. It would have been much better but for the family that decided to bring the six month old. To a loud movie with cannons. That other people really wanted to see. On opening weekend. Where the six month old SCREAMED for most of the movie.
A bajillion hours later, around four pm, we left the theatre and snagged something to eat and by this point I have been up way too long, coupled with stressing out and not feeling well, and I really just want to go home and nap (actually, to be specific, I wanted to stay home and nap before the movie but Captain pulled the puppy eyes and said he didn't want to go if I didn't want to go so I went, and it was good, but I was so tired), but we had to go to Volde-Mart. I cut the shopping trip extremely short because I seriously did not feel well at that point, and passed out pretty much as soon as we got home, until
rewil called at eight.Which was good because after I got off the phone with her at eight thirty (she was bored and I was too lazy to get out of bed for a bit, and there was bitching to be done and then random tangents to go down and the very emphatic declaration that a corner rounder is possibly the single greatest scrap book tool EVAH) I managed to pack my bags for tomorrow's trip and started browbeating Captain to stop goofing off on his RPs and take care of his packing because I really don't want to be running around at six am tomorrow trying to remember where the phone charger is and why the car has no gas and did we get money for the toll?
So... yes.
Sorry, that was random.