Ta hell with it, I’m taking a taxi to work

I am having a very slow start to the day, and I actually felt like blogging instead of lying in bed surveying the ant trap that is my to do list.  My thoughts go in… and they do not come out.

Jeff says I’m crabbier than normal since I started back to work.  It’s the commute. Once I figure out how to make my commute useful, I will probably be less crabby.  I have figured out some of the details on the transfer points (I transfer in different places depending on whether I’m going to work or going home) and I am able to sit all the way to work on the bus, which I was unable to do when I was taking the 145 up the hill.  Also, because it’s not an articulated bus, I have better odds of not being exposed to shippiles of cologne.  And, only one transfer instead of two; and, all in Burnaby so little effect by the Olympics except of course that SFU is a transit hub for Olympic events, but even so I should be as unaffected as is possible in the lower Mainland during the blowout.

Youtube has a video entitled Why I can’t celebrate the 2010 Vancouver Olympics.  It’s six minutes long, heartfelt, intelligent, and very closely matches my feelings.  Except that I’m not paying a nickel, not one red fucking cent, for anything Olympic oriented. When I see the TONS of ads on the bus, I think to myself, in six months the Value Village will be inundated with this hoody and that hat and this shirt and that scarf.  Even then I won’t get it second hand. I did see a cloisonné pin in the Waves coffee house the other night that I actually liked, but once again, I am not spending money on it.

I may end up in a band.  When she told me what the band name was, I burst out laughing and gave a big thumbs up.  More later if possible.  Jeff warned me not to get too invested and it’s good advice (he normally gives good advice…).

I have not written Granny’s eulogy yet.  That plus the Valentine cards should keep this weekend a very busy one… and Jeff is away for part of this weekend so no shopping unless I’m doing the carrying myself.

Work is very funny. I am going flat out and every night there are the same number of cases in the queue as when I left the night before.  And that doesn’t cover the other stuff I have to do.  I have a whole set of tasks beyond that.  And I am fine with it.  I can’t do everything, but I can do something, and that’s what I’m doing.  I am going to reward myself for my entire lack of initiative (actually, it’s an entire lack of worrying) by getting myself some Haagen Dazs on the way home from work today… there’s a Nester’s Market right next to the Cornerstone building now and it’s huge and gorgeous, at least from my bus window, and I am looking forward to spending some money there.

It seems ludicrous to say it, but I’m content right now.  And now, it’s time for a shower and then a quick call to Bonny’s Taxi.

I think I am going to have to invent a new category of wrong

This gentleman is trying to make his “Take a wild guess, do you think I’m white?” observations into news.  The part that got me was the notion that Jews are not sex offenders…. Anyway, leave off attempting to read this until you are feeling strong.  I want to see the data to support some of this crap, by gosh.

I’m going to have a Tshirt made up:


Mine are cuter, smaller and rarer than yours.