I came home tonight and Marvin was doing his Thomas Kinkade impression, where every light in the house was on. I half-expected some sort of inspirational message to appear underneath our house, like "It's Always Darkest Before the Dawn" or "Plant Your Corn Early" or something.
When I got inside and turned off 857 lights–and by the way, Marvin will turn on every single light in the house, including the attic light, but he leaves the heat off and all the animals have icicles hanging off their snouts–Marvin was just leaving for the gym, so I got to make whatever I wanted for dinner. I had slices of green apple, walnuts, and Parmesan Reggiano cheese drizzled in honey. Man Polly quit cryin' it was delicious.
Thank you all for your song suggestions for my upcoming Valentine's Day bash at work. I thought Book of Love was particularly brilliant, and yes, it DID kill me that Sleeping Beauty put her list in alpha order. I am totally gonna steal from everyone's suggestions. Well, except I'm not putting I Touch Myself on the song list.
Speaking of work, my boss came in to my office and was all excited because it is supposed to snow a lot here tonight. She said, "Do you have the emergency number to call, in case we shut down?" I told her I did, and then before I even had a chance to stop myself I heard myself say, "I better print out these pages I'm proofreading so I can look at them at home, in case we can't get to work tomorrow."
What the Sam Hill is wrong with me? No one told me to print out pages and work at home if we have a snow day tomorrow. No one told me I had to meet my deadline anyway. What a maroon. What an embezzle. Now if there's a snow day I'll have to work all day ANYWAY. Why can't I ever shut up?
Oh, also, I wanted to tell you. A couple of you thought it was odd that a 1927 Better Homes and Gardens would show a house with a Buddha statue, but Eastern-influenced decor was really in style in fancy homes in the '20s. I just learned that when I took that tour of that old mansion on Christmas Eve. See how you learn things when you creepy-crawl rich people's houses?
And speaking of that, someone else said she and her mom used to like to look in rich people's windows, and when I lived in Seattle, I had a boyfriend who wasn't rich, but for some reason his apartment was slap in the middle of a rich person neighborhood. He and I used to take walks at night so we could see in the windows of the fancy people. I LOVED doing that!
At the time, I was a receptionist and he worked in a copy shop. We used to say, "Do you think those people work at copy shops? Do you think they answer phones for a living?" We never got depressed, though, because we were 27 and figured there was plenty of time to be rich.
I wonder if that guy got rich. I am doubtin' it. He had hair down the middle of his back and 87 earrings. He was really thrifty, though, I recall, and always had a $1,000 cushion in his checking account. Me too. A $1,000 cushion. Whatever.
I once asked him why it is that men never get over the sight of a naked woman. I mean, really. You've seen one good one, you've seen them all, right? And this guy was handsome; he'd had a lot of girlfriends. But whenever a naked woman was on TV or whatever he'd be all, "Oooo!" So I asked him, why don't men ever get over it? And he said for men, seeing a woman naked was like chips and salsa. No matter how many time you have chips and salsa, it's always great. Somehow that made sense to me.
Hey, I hear old light at the end of the tunnel coming back from the gym, out in the driveway. Oh, what do you know? He just flicked on the living room light!