Confession Sunday

It's also Palm Sunday, the day of shouting Hosannas, but seriously, I haven't had breakfast yet, so I'm pretty grumpy. And church isn't until this evening, so I get to be grumpy for a little bit at least...

[okay, got the apple cinnamon cheerios my dad left from his visit last weekend. Yes, my dad was in da Burgh in my apt while I was in Baaaston, but that's a story for another day]

I'm so glad Blackbird posted for this, b/c I've been thinking all week that I needed a "confession Sunday" and well, true confessions...I didn't want to be the only one.

"Mammas don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys" is one of my favorite songs. Last night it came on the radio (this morning at 12:01, as I was pulling onto 279 South--driving home from the library sleepover where Sarah Louise got to go home to her own bed!!) and I thought, I have been chasing cowboys too long. They will never change. So if you know any non-cowboy types...

Thursday night at work, I did nothing but rearrange my email folders. (This would be semi-acceptable if I was also watching a desk and answering phones, but no, I was wearing the "Tech Serv" hat, which requires putting labels on stuff.)

After I left work yesterday, I went and spent my $3 Brewsters gift card on a chocolate sundae and sat in my car, read an entire book. (Sisterchicks learn to hula? somesuch Christian chicklit. It wasn't bad.)

I forgot to buy milk, again!!

I was e-vited to a baby baptism party being held today and last night, as I was trolling Goodwill for a paperback to read during dinner, I decided that little miss introvert needed one-on-one time, so I called a friend to schedule lunch. oops...

After deciding months ago that I need to get a water filter for my kitchen sink, I still haven't told my landlord I think he should pay for it.

I'd really like to move, if I could move in with some nice people--I'm getting tired of just me in this garret, of having to go out to find companions.

(See how those two are linked?)

So I get my drinking water out of the bathroom sink.

Poor Katie Holmes, her hubby is flying 6000 miles away and she's about to pop a baby anytime soon. Oh, right, the wedding is after the baby (can't they go to a JP?) I cry for her NOT SO MUCH! (Yes, I read the tabloids at the grocery store when I went there to pick up my drugs and FORGOT TO BUY MILK)

someone who needed a confession Sunday: a father at the sleepover last night who was checking his Blackberry while I helped his daughter with a craft. OH I WAS LIVID! That's why we invited parents, y'know, to participate! And no, he's not a doctor, he's a lawyer. (If he was a doctor, I could have understood it--one of my doctors has a Blackb and I am GRATEFUL, but what kind of emergency does a lawyer have at 11:23pm?) (My apologies to all y'all baristers and solicitors and such....)

instead of sticking to my budget and eating healthy, I went to Damons and had fried fish and french fries last night for dinner instead of having a taco salad at Wendy's. (But seriously, I think it was warranted, I mean, I then had to go help children make a mouse pencil holder which required felt, glue, and mouse ears.)

I told Sally at work that I'd give her back the computer speakers last week when I got back from Baaaaaaaston. They are still connected to my computer. Ugh. I may have to get new drivers, whatever that means... (it's not the CD-ROM, b/c even MP3s skip in the middle of a song.)

I do not recycle paper and plastics as much as I should. Most days breakfast is Carnation Instant Breakfast in a #1 disposable plastic cup that I then throw in the trash. (But I did just learn that IKEA will take batteries, which is great, b/c between my CD disc-man and my digi camera, I go through batteries FAST.) I have been collecting old batteries since 1998...well, maybe just since 2003.

My garett is a sea of piles and laundry baskets full of...piles. I have clean laundry piles, dirty laundry piles, and I have been home a week now and have not unpacked my suitcase, my Swiss Air bag, or opened my mail from when I was gone.

I feel guilty having complaints when it's just me I have to take care of...it's not like I'm cooking dinner for anyone or wiping anyone else's snotty nose...

Oh, the humanity!