Damn dirty apes!

I got all spring-cleany last night and rearranged the furniture in my bedroom. Mostly I did it so that I could have a place to put the plant that I took from the library where it could get some sunlight so it could breathe and do its photosynthesizing. How that plant survived in the concrete wonderland of the library is beyond me. But, it is now sitting squat in front of my bedroom window. And it really adds a little something to my room, I must say.

The problems herein lies: when I moved my bed and nightstand, I had to unplug my alarm clock and replug it in elsewhere. I reset the clock, naturally... but not the alarm. I woke up with about twenty minutes to get ready.

Why does my body choose 7:20 to wake up when my alarm isn't set properly? Why not 6:30, the time when I actually do get up each morning? Just wondering. Leaves me just enough time to look nearly pulled together, but with some detail just a smidge off. For example, today I'm wearing a shirt that I have never worn to work before, and because I didn't have time to really examine my outfit, my boobs are hanging out. So. I'll look very professional at my meetings today.

Um, I read this article a few moments ago... it's kind of... rendering me speechless. And I'm not sure why. It's just fascinating.

"Lost" finale tonight! 2 hours. What more can I say?

With my monitor at home not working, that means my speakers aren't working, and that means I can't listen to music while I do things. And this has really changed the tone of my quotidian activities. So yesterday I used the dvd player in my room as a cd player (janky) and dusted off my cds. I found one tucked in to my old cd case that was titled "Summer 2003 Mix."

Now, you may not know this, but I am a fantastic mix maker. It's probably my super power. And because the summer of 2003 was such a strange, puppy-love infused, emotional tornado, I figured this mix would be a good one. Any mix that begins with the sensual guitar plucking of "Dust in the Wind" is bound to pack a punch. Ha.

I realized a couple of things, though. A) I was the worlds largest sap. I should have a certificate or something. And B) I'm so very glad I went through all of that when I did, when it was still acceptable for me be to irrational. Glad beyond words. Because if I was going through that crazy first love stuff now, I'd be making some very poorly informed decisions.

I was ready to get married when I was 17. I thought I knew everything there was to know about love. At 17! I was sure that I would never feel that way again, that I was fated to marry this boy. I was very dramatic and serious about it. And maybe it isn't possible to feel that way again - mostly because I'll never be that uninformed, or naive, or untried again. But heavens to Betsy... I'm watching friends go through it now. And I can't say anything. Well, I could. But it would fall on the deafest of ears.

Big sigh.

I feel like I'm 22 going on 50. I had one of those Dove promises the other day, the ones with the little messages inside the wrapper. It said "don't think so much." I left it sitting out on my desk. It's right under the fortune that I taped on to my monitor that says, "You may end up saving the day."