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Tuesday, November 30, 2004


The time has come for the telling of a story.
It is not a happy story, nor is it a sad one. It is of the genre that makes unrelated parties wonder why I bother telling it.

On Wednesday, I had to try more than once to get a dial tone to get online. On Thursday, we made no phone calls, as we were away, eating other people's food.

On Friday, I was at tech, making a royal mess of a pair of jeans by sitting in a mess of whitewash. (The jeans would see their end when I painted a basement the next day and sat in a pile of brown and black paint.) After tech, I called home, to get a busy signal. "Odd," thought I. So I called the cell. And whaddya know, but that there was no dial tone at home?

This problem persisted through the weekend. The phone people did not come until today.

Therefore, I did not go bowling on Sunday, I did not go online all weekend, and I did not use the phone all weekend, I did not make birthday phone calls this weekend, and I watched more Gilmore Girls and M*A*S*H than is healthy.

This renders me quite whiny.

SHOPPING! I haven't been in a while ... since last Friday! Let's go shopping! YAY!

I need skirts and cute tops. I really do. I don't have any. Cute tops, that is. I have two skirts. A green one for spring concerts and a black one for formal concerts. Of course, I no longer need to supply my own black skirt ... right, I was right before. I need skrits AND cute tops.

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