Lint Gate continues...

Except now, it's not about the lint.

So...I waited all week to do laundry, knowing that I didn't want to have to deal with it on a night that I worked til 9pm. So last night, I put a load in around 6:30 p.m. I moved around some books for an hour, went back downstairs at 7:30. Well, it was still going, but at least it was in the "Final Spin."

I did a bunch of other stuff, including getting a Popsicle, calling my parents (line busy), calling Michigan Sally, and gabbing away. While we were talking, I thought, let me just see where the load is, maybe I can transfer stuff to dryer. Um. Still in "Final Spin," a half hour later.

My clothes were almost dry! Who needs a dryer? So I unplugged the washer (there may be a shut off switch, but this is a laundromat style coin-op and so there aren't really dials to work with.) Upstairs again, I wrote an email to the landlord.

Luckily, I washed towels and underwear last night, so I'm set for a week. I have enough shirts to last me a while, since my mom and I did 4 loads of laundry when she came to visit a few weeks ago.

On the depression front--my body is doing bizarre things that feel like "not depression":

• I couldn't sleep last night (which feels like hypomania).
  
• I am eating everything in sight (including opening a can of tuna with a church key b/c my can opener is broken) (And yes, I know hunger is a depression symptom, but when I lick the plate clean, that seems hypomanic to me.)
• Today in the morning, I was Ms. Motormouth, and at lunch, too.
  

But this afternoon, at work on the Children's reference desk, I retreated inward and in between helping patrons, I transferred my Twitter favorites into Delicious. I grunted at patrons, and told them we didn't have books, (but then I found myself wrong, and delighted them.) So, I can still do my job, and well, but I am like dead wood inside. Argh.

Yesterday...love was such an easy game to play...

It was like a dream: a book that I'm on the wait list for (with at least 300 other people) was there, on the shelf, at the Squirrel Hill library in their Bestsellers. I squealed, and went off to lunch at Gullifties. (Yes, I'm eating out less, but Monday lunch is a non-negotiable.)

Emily Giffin hit the scene a few years ago with Something Borrowed and Something Blue. LOVE those books. Couldn't read Baby Proof, I draw the line at reading too many books about people wanting babies. (Since I'm clearly so ambivalent...not.) Anyways, I was excited about her latest, Love the one you're with. I spent the afternoon and evening reading it. Ah, to be caught up in a book.

Even if it wasn't the best book (I still maintain that her first two are her best, and I own them in paperback), it was a great way to spend hours. Ellen is a girl who discovers photography, loves NYC, and marries into old Southern aristocracy. It's about meeting the guy who was not so great for her a year after she married her husband. For all of us who dated (at least) one of those intense types, it's a good read.

I probably would have been less hard on her as a writer if she hadn't chosen Pittsburgh as the hometown for her heroine. Her references to da Burgh seemed stiff, like she'd only read a wikipedia article or something. (Her facts were right, but...no soul.) Go back to your roots, Em!

Geez, I'm 15 minutes late for a date with myself for a walk...oh, and I didn't do the TCK call either, I napped yesterday afternoon. Yep, I'm into the beginning of SUMMER, my least favorite season. I'll try to be positive here, but no guarantees. I still have clean underwear though.