Saturday night at home

Well, I did it. I finally got off the couch.

I've really been kicking myself today for being "lazy" and I wish I would quit treating myself like a loser. I worked over 50 hours this week; I'm allowed to have a day of rest! Why do I give myself such a damn hard time? It gets very tiring being this self-critical, I'm just saying.

I had grand plans to go to Target, the grocery store, to view a bigger apartment, to meet Brent Fantastic for beer. All I've managed to do is make a few phone calls, including one to an establishment who brought me dinner. Two words: Yay, pizza.

I didn't make it to Target. I didn't make it to the grocery. I didn't make it to the new apartment complex, and Brent canceled (which was good; he must have sensed that I too was feeling tired and unmotivated). So now it's almost 11 PM on a Saturday and I hate that I can't shake the feeling that I just wasted a day. I napped a lot, which was awesome, but now I'm ready to start my Saturday. I have back the energy I needed to walk around Target and the grocery store. I'm ready to go to the bank and open up that new checking account. I'm ready to shower and primp and get dressed in my spanking-clean new clothes and go meet Brent for drinks. But I'm in my semi-cold apartment, wearing a T-shirt, sporting some frightening-ass bed head (couch head?), and I'm ... hmm. I'm happy to be here, but there was a lot I wanted to do too. I don't know. I'm just disappointed, I guess, that weekends are always so freakin' short. I need another day to get done all the things I planned to get done. My exposure to the outside world was limited to opening the door for the pizza guy. Good enough, you know? It looked pretty cold outside and even if it wasn't ...

You know what? I'm going to stop with all that. I will make it to the aforementioned stores in good time. Doesn't mean I'm going now because I can feel a draft coming in from one of my apartment's ill-insulated windows and it feels COLD outside (which is not conducive to my desire to remain pants-free). I don't care if some stores ARE open 24 hours.

Earlier, I was playing Pencil with my little cat, Gizmo*. It's this fun little game where Giz sits on the floor next to my computer chair and whines at me mercilessly until I pay attention to her, which usually involves me dangling a pencil above her head which she bats at and gnaws on once she scratches it out of my hands. I don't know why she hates it when I get on the computer, but she does. A mere hour ago, we were lying on the couch, watching TV, and she was curled up by my feet, happy and warm. But I got up, got some water, flipped on a light (this apartment gets DARK!) and popped online and suddenly Giz was awake and off the couch and meowmeowmeowmeow until I thought I was going to lose my mind. Often, I pick her up and sit her on my chest. I then raise her up under her arms and make her do her Jack Nicholson impression. In a voice oddly similar to mine, Giz says, "You can't handle the truth!" and we laugh and laugh and laugh. Okay, maybe I'm the only one laughing, but damn it's funny. I figure we're even for all the times we play Claw the Shit Out of My Hand and she wins.

My other cat, George, was sleeping on my chest earlier, which is just so adorable that I could scream. She doesn't have a problem with me being online. I figure it's because she's already completed her novel and has no use for the computer.

So. What to do now. I've checked my email. No new messages. It's too late and too cold to start running errands now. Somehow going to the store alone at 11 PM for some shampoo sounds like a good way to get myself profiled as an innocent victim on "America's Most Wanted."

I'm going to pour myself some water. *glug glug glug* It's very important to remain hydrated, you know, and soda only makes you thirstier. It's a fact. Next time I hear someone say, "I'm SO thirsty!" and they pop open a Coke, I reserve the right to sigh and roll my eyes. Don't these people read?? That said, if the Diet Coke Fairy came to my door, I would righteously welcome her in and suckle from her caffeinated teat. I'm just saying.

Hmmm. I don't want to clean. I don't especially want to turn the TV back on, but I might 'cause Mad TV is coming on. Oops -- it's already on. I don't want to go to bed and I don't have anyone to call on the phone. I don't have any booze or illegal substances to color the shiny prisms of my world. And I'm already writing, so... hmmm. I guess it's just weird to not have to be anywhere or do anything. I could be sorting laundry or reading one of the library books I've had out since September (no lie; online renewals have saved my life), but I'm not.

Just thought of something. I was watching Dateline earlier and saw the better part of a story about a man who hired someone to kill his wife. That someone, unfortunately, was an undercover cop, and the guy got arrested. He claimed amnesia (didn't work), that his wife was deathly ill and he was trying to relieve her suffering (not so clear how close to the truth that was), and also that severe depression had plagued his life. I don't fault the guy. I felt oddly sorry for him. The person with whom I have an issue is the woman who took her husband back! She testified on his behalf and when he got out of prison after serving a six-month (!) sentence, she took him back. Claimed it was her faith in God and her vows, etc. that made her stay with him. She cited the incident as one of the "bad times" referenced in her marriage vows. Honey, a "bad time" is a fight. A "bad time" is supporting the family after he's lost his job. A "bad time" is not the fallout after your loving husband meets with someone to poison your ass. Sorry, but I'm fresh out of sympathy. Maybe I'm being irrational, but I don't see myself staying with anyone who was plotting my murder. That's what I call a dealbreaker. All together now: d-e-a-l-b-r-e-a-k-e-r. I have plenty of faith in God, the Goddess, the spirits, guardians and goddesses of the universe, and in all the Higher Powers that have looked out for me during my entire life. But premedidated murder? How do you spell relief? D-I-V-O-R-C-E.

I think I'm going to go watch a movie, which means I'm going to start a movie and probably fall asleep halfway into it, which is just fine by me. That means ... *dun dun dun* ... that I'm going back to the couch. Someone spot me.