I Wish I Had a Clever Title For This Entry, But Alas, I Don't
08/21/2003
4:40 p.m.
 Ok so I'm watching TV while here at work (Oh yeah, we watch a lot of TV at the television station. And get paid to do it! Ha!) and I see this commercial that has some vehicle-type deal that resembles a Big Wheel. Do you remember those? Do they even still make those? God, those were so much fun! Oh, how I long for my childhood. Normally I'm quite a free-spirit very much in touch with my inner child. Perhaps it's the looming closing date on my house (only 1 week!) that's got me all riled up.
I mean, that's a very grown-up thing. Y'know, buying a house and all. I am so ready to move in. At least mentally. In reality, I've yet to finish packing. I'm getting there, but I haven't even begun on the kitchen, and the only clothes I've packed are my sweaters- which, of course, I don't need in our 90+ degree heat. And my sister and my nephew are moving in, too. I'm not sure if I've romanticized the whole situtation a little too much, but I'm actually looking forward to this. I kinda got this fantasy about us being like the WB's Charmed sisters. Not that we're witches. Or really hot. Or live in a huge manor. And there's only two of us. But, they're real close and I'd like that for us. Sister's already started asking if she can paint things. I just hope we can have some sort of agreement on the decorating. Part of me really doesn't want to wash all of my dirty dishes that have piled up. Who am I kidding? All of me doesn't want to do that. I wish I could just throw them all away and buy new dinnerware, tupperware, utensils, etc. Thank God my new house has a dishwasher. And a disposal. And a shower.(Wait! 2 showers!) God bless modern conveniences. Did this entry sound as sporadic as it felt? Hmmm, maybe it's just me. Oh, and Sirreal: quit commenting on every single one of my entries! I know who you are, I work with you, and it's beginning to wig me out knowing that you're reading my journal all the time. I'm starting to censor what I write about. This is my freakin' journal. I should be able to write about whatever I damn well please. How 'bout you lay off on reading it? Preesh, pal.
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� Lysistrata 2003-2004
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