...zzzz....

03-04-00

Okay, so work didn't totally suck today, even though I was there until 12:30. I'm so much more relaxed when Sherrie's off. There's nobody there who thinks I'm a complete idiot.

What did suck about this morning was my alarm. Our power flickered last night during an electrical storm and the clocks went off, of course. My clock has two alarms, and I set them about half an hour apart so I can sleep in without hitting the snooze button so many times. When I reset my two alarms, I forgot to reset the clock itself. The alarms went off dutifully when the clock said 7:00 and 7:40, but it was really about a quarter of seven. I didn't notice until I walked out of the bathroom and it was still dark. John's clock said 6:45. Mine said 8:05. Both of us set our bedside clocks about twenty minutes fast. I went into the living room: the VCR and stereo clocks were flashing 12:00. John's pocketwatch said, strangely, 5:45. I got the final answer from my digital organizer: it was about 6:45. Man, was I pissed.

I watched Martha Stewart and nursed my heartburn for an hour, and I was still late for work. I'm such a caring employee. The heartburn was entirely my fault; John and I took down a bottle of butterscotch schnapps last night in about 20 minutes. The alcohol percentage in that shit is very low, but drinking it so fast gave me a tummyache. Boo.

I've been completely devoid of energy all day. We went to practice this afternoon and I just kept spacing out in my chair. I'd play a few warm-ups and then stare off in space for 5 minutes. Then I'd sightread a movement of this Vivaldi concerto I picked up today and then I'd go get a drink of water. Then I'd read a copy of The Instrumentalist for ten minutes without turning a page. I was playing in the atrium of the music building, and it was warm and dry in there. My eyelids were drooping closed when John and I decided to leave.

We came home and I was supposed to take a nap before we went out to play pool. Instead, I found myself with the phone in my hand, talking to Eric for the first time since I left Michigan. Did I call Eric because I was homesick, or am I homesick from talking to Eric? Tough call.

John started playing around with the computer, we watched Clerks, and before we knew it the sky was dark and the phone was ringing. Apparently, there was a "welcoming" party upstairs for the latest addition to John's band, but nobody told us about it until today. I couldn't face the thought of being cheerful all night, although I guess I haven't really been cheerful for the last couple of parties, either. I'm still sleepy as fuck. I don't think I ever woke up properly this morning; I've just been in this stupor all day.

John did a brief house-cleaning today, just scraping up the stuff that we strew around during the week. Fleck is always into everything when we're moving around the house, since he owns everything, and all. I don't know what the hell he did, but he was fucking around with a plastic grocery bag and he must have gotten one of his rear legs caught in the handle. He went tearing around the house three times at top speed with this rattling plastic bag on his ass. Fleck had this terrified look on his face, like OH GOD IT'S CHASING ME MAKE IT STOP OH GOD! I laughed like hell. John was the one who picked Fleck up and cuddled him, cooing, when the plastic bag stopped harrassing the poor cat. All afternoon, I'd reach for Fleck and he'd stalk over to John, his little pink nose wrinkling with bitterness. I do believe we have an adolescent cat on our hands.