Let’s not talk about the cleaning. No, wait, one little thing… after all that, no one showed up to inspect my apartment. NO ONE. I even stayed up all night, Sunday night, except a two hour period when I passed out in exhaustion on the not yet cleaned kitchen floor, from midnight to 2 am. Look, I was home yesterday, hiding in my not even cleaned up bedroom. NO ONE CAME. Bastards.
But that’s it with the cleaning. It’s time for only interesting and fun things to happen now. Except, they aren’t. I’m truly disturbed with the lack of weird in my life right now. My little brother may, or may not, come to visit me. The other day, his friends were hassled, in their home, by the FBI. Because they might be terrorists. Josh thinks it’s because they are active political protesters. I think it’s because they are vegan. I shouldn’t joke tho, it freaked them all out and it wasn’t cool. [seriously, tho, if they had been been all sitting around, eating real meat hot dogs, they FBI would have just looked at them and thought, “no way… so they protest… that’s their RIGHT as Americans! Look at these kids, they are eating hot dogs! Hey, I know… let’s see if they want to play a game of catch with us! I just love summertime! You kids have popsicles?”]
I, however, do not love summertime. It was recording breaking hot up here in Seattle. Freakishly hot. 95.. 96 degrees on Friday and Saturday. And, since my apartment did not cool down over Friday night, and it was actually hotter in my apartment than outside Saturday afternoon, I figure it got up to at least 100 in my home. That just sucks. Why can’t it be October?

I just found out my mom is a republican!!

i came into work early this morning… 6 am. I was awake at 4, so it seemed like the best idea. No, actually, the best idea would have been to clean, while the apartment was cool and come into work at nine. But I’m really not all that active in the morning, even when I get a decent amount of sleep. So I came here, instead. And I did my favorite thing… turned the damned florescent lights half off. No one else is here. There used to be a woman who worked at 6, who would always want them full on. But she isn’t located in my section now.. she’s got her own office. We have, at times, had great debates within my department, regarding the lighting. Some of us know that soft lighting is best for computer work, with task specific lighting on your desk for reading papers. Then, despite the fact that one long wall is completely filled with windows. the other side claims they have S.A.D. and will commit suicide if there is one iota of light removed. Good riddance? Perhaps… but they always end up winning. Because it’s easier to just leave things as they are, and ignore the eye strain that some of us feel. The last battle we waged was a valiant one…. we’d gotten further than we had before. But again… I was told I should put in for a egonominc evaluation, which they do at this facility. Feh. Meanwhile, my eyes are getting worse and it’s becoming increasing difficult to read text on the screen. I might have to request one of those fancy flat screen ultra sharp monitors. They show less glare and are super sharp. yup.
So the lighting is soft, and hopefully it will stay that way all day. Sometimes, if the truly adamant light people don’t get here too early, you can do that. Then, when they get here, they will just think that everyone wants it and will not presume to change it. After all, it will be back to normal tomorrow. Wimpy bastards.
I’m feeling kind of sassy today, despite being tired. For the first time in the history of my life, I am bra-less at work. I’m wearing a camisole . It’s officially become so hot that I know longer care if I am too fat to be scantily clad. Currently, I am wearing a hoodie over it. But you have to understand, even tho the breast reduction was two years ago, it still amazes me … what I can wear. Comfortably. it’s just a strappy tank top, and yet… I feel so naughty. Why, this is the first thing I’ve worn to work that shows my tattoo. Which is on my left shoulder, on my back. I write a lot of sentences that are actually dependent clauses. Which is incorrect. At least I realize that. Anyway, so yeah, it’s supposed to get in the mid 90’s here, which is BAD. We aren’t built for weather like this. And I have to clean all weekend in my easy bake apartment. Did I tell you I called and begged for an extension on having my apartment inspected? I did. Now it’s monday. But man, I am going to die cleaning that apartment, in this heat.
If you don’t hear from me by monday, let the authorities know that I am dead in my apartment, please. Never-mind, they’ll find me during the inspection.

some people just need a good spanking. I have a hand truck that adjust to be a horizontal truck. If you put a flattened box down on it, it’s a great way to haul a lot of crap to the dumpster at once. It’s going to be essential over the next couple of days.
I took a load of garbage down to the dumpster, and then parked the hand truck in front of my reserved parking space. Then I hoped in the car and went to Safeway. I knew I’d need it for all the crap I was going to haul home. When I got back, the hand truck was gone. There happened to be a maintenance guy outside the front of the building, working, so I asked him if he saw what happened to it. He said a gentleman took it and started to haul garbage with it. “In fact, there he is right there,” pointing up to a first floor balcony. I called up to the guy and asked him if he had my truck, and could I have it back. He said yes, and ten minutes later he finally came down with a load of trash. Then he brought it over and apologized. He said that he is cleaning his apartment, and thought that it [the truck] would “help him.” So he took it. Wow… how convenient for him.
His balcony is two floors down from mine. Which means that he belongs to the reserved parking space with the extra sign. The owners of the space put their own additional reserved sign up, and signed it with their apartment number. That’s how I know it’s his space. Which means the ginormous SUV is his too. It’s one of those ridiculously huge and luxurious SUV’s. With a vanity plate. That reads TNDRNI. Tenderoni? Is there anything else it could be? Is he serious? Really?
I’m pretty sure that his tenderoniSUV would “help me” in my efforts to clean. Maybe I should just take it.

I am weakened with heat exhaustion and overexertion. I may just swoon. It’s not humane to expect me to clean in this heat. I am a delicate flower, you know. I may just have to jump in the car and buy something expensive, soon.
Here is my plan, if it works out. Mrs. Moon and I think that Mr. Moon should come over to my house after work. And he should go swimming with us, as we’ll be all hot and tired. Then, when the sun starts to set, Mr. Moon and I can pull a dumpster across the parking lot, and situate it under my balcony. One of us, probably me, will toss garbage over the balcony and into the dumpster. While the other mans the dumpster and tells anyone who protests to fuck off. That way, we can just stack any garbage on my balcony while we clean, and we’ll have the excitement of tossing stuff off a balcony to look forward to later. What’s the worst that can happen? The managers tell me, the next day, to never do that again and I say, “ok. but never announce you are invading my private space with only three [working] days notice again, ya bastards. I need at least a weekend.”
I may be a big dork, but I’ve always wanted to do that. What a time saver.
Edited to add at 7:56 pm:
whoooo-boy and I procrastinating. I damn near started updating to MovableType 3.0… just to avoid the cleaning. Also, for about five minutes, all the colors in my style sheet changed, but you probably didn’t notice because I changed them right back. I was just playing. There is no satisfactory blue color, in the web spectrum.

The title is a real life quote from Fee. And a pretty awesome one, at that.
Mrs. Moon is going to come over tomorrow and help me clean. She’s super good at it. I’m going to pay her. It’s only fair. Currently, she is a punk rock housewife and stay at home mom. You’d think she does enough cleaning. But I think she sort of likes the sense of accomplishment. And it’s a well known fact that cleaning someone else’s house is easier somehow. I wouldn’t say more fun, but…. Anyway, she is a much much much better cleaner and organizer than I am. When it gets too hot, we plan to go downstairs and jump in the pool. She’ll keep me on track, keep me from slacking. Which is what I need most of all, really.
I really have nothing exciting to tell you … the other night I went to Safeway and a man outside growled at me. Like a dog. Idiot that I am, I didn’t think to hiss back at him (like a cat) until much later. Too bad.

I’ve just been notified, as of this evening, that apartment complex gestapo will be performing their “annual inspection” on Thursday. This is all the notice I have. And by Annual Inspection, we mean, whenever the hell we feel like it, but certainly not annually. I had one inspection the summer after I moved in, then nothing until two years ago. I’ve lived here nine years. They always give you over a week. This time, they didn’t even give me a weekend. I am very frustrated with them. My apartment is as bad as it’s ever been. And there is a lot more work than can be done by Thursday. Considering I have a job to go to every day.
It’s true I could have been cleaning last week, had I known. And some part knew that eventually they’d do it. But no part of me new they’d only give me three evenings to clean everything up. And why the fuck do they always pick the hottest days of the year? It would take me 8 hours, alone, just to clean my bedroom.
I’m afraid we are all going to suffer this time. As there is nothing I like better than procrastination via blog. And it’s bound to get whiny. Sorry in advance.

Now that you are two years old, there is so much more you can do… you’re not a baby anymore.
Technically, last Wednesday was the 2nd anniversary of my blog, I just failed to notice. Until I started talking about it Friday night. I guess I was more caught up in the fact that I am soon to reach my 500th post. Wow! Anyway, it’s been two years. I rarely stick with anything for two years. So yay me!
Friday night Evildeb and I met up with the Moons at Gameworks. Turns out, they have a mechanical bull now. Turns out, Mrs. Moon has always wanted to ride a mechanical bull. She just needed to get a little drunk first. Evildeb decided to be her drinking buddy, and, eventually, rode the bull herself. It was pretty funny. I’d have a better, more interesting, description of it, had I written this entry Saturday, instead of today. But, alas, no. Mr. Moon also rode the bull. TOTALLY SOBER. That’s a real cowboy. They all said it was more difficult than it looked. And hurt more than you’d think it would. So guess who did not ride the bull. Me! Huts more than you thought? More work than you thought? No thanks!
When I was driving Evildeb home on Friday, she was already bruising on her inner thighs. Now she’s in Vegas, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s walking the strip bowlegged.
Do you ever stop to listen to your office building? If you work in an office building, that is. The sound of all the computers, fans, a/c units, and buzzing florescent lights is pretty extreme. It’s almost like being on a plane. You are just so used to it, you don’t even hear it anymore. Ok, maybe not as bad a commercial plane, more like a really fancy quiet plane. But still a jet plane.

I took the week off from work excitement up a notch today and went to costco. I bought socks, and two books. I’m not sure that I’m type of consumer that costco targets. I simply do not consume enough. I wasn’t even wiley enough to get my fair share of meatballs cooked in jerk sauce samples. Bastard teenage boys with their long legs and nimble fingers.