Trashed and Scattered

Non-stick cooking spray is not supposed to, you know, stick to stuff, right?  WRONG.  I always forget and use it on my cookie sheet, and bake up biscuits or cookies or whatever.  The cookies slide off easily, but the parts that got hosed down with butter-flavored Pam without receiving a biscuit bottom?  I can’t scrub that crap off.  Ever.

Last time this happened, I turned on the oven self-cleaning function with the cookie sheet in the oven.  Which I did again last night.  I vaguely remembered being uncomfortable, or hot, or something, last time I did this.  Oh! Wait!  That’s right, I want to choke and die when I do this! Which is what I realized about a half hour into the cleaning process.

Today I feel like I have a massive head-cold, which, maybe I really do have a head-cold, but I’m hoping/praying/wishing it’s the oven cleaning.  I’m heading to UtaR bright and early on Saturday morning to visit the must missed FAM, and I don’t WANT to feel like poo on a plate.

So, I flaked out on a quick breakfast with a friend this morning, but promised him I’d go with him to Ikea.  I’m pretty sure we’re about to have matching kitchens. (Nick will just have to suck it up!)  Followed up with a quick stop-over in Lowe’s to wander aimlessly around for what felt like days, and now I’m back at work and already thinking about what’s for lunch.  Trying to convince myself that a smokey buttery-flavored chemical is making me feel ill.  And not a virus.

I’m forcing Nickolas into making spanakopita for dinner because that has spinach in it, right? And spinach has like, vitamins?  Which totally fight off the cold.  Mmm, cheese and phyllo dough.

The floodwaters of snot are slowly receeding. Like you needed to know.

Today should be relatively busy, in a good way, now that I don’t sound like my mouth opens up to the Gates of Hell. I postponed showing a new employee the ropes, because really, would you want someone hacking, sneezing, and blowing their way through a training session?  Ok.  That didn’t really sound all that lady like.

I left work early yesterday to curl up in a ball on top of my comforter and stare at the wall for four hours.

Which is what I’d love to be doing today. But, instead, I’m sitting here, in a serious cold medicine haze, trying to get some work done without royally fucking it up.

Even worse, I’m mulling over a few opportunities/issues in my head, and today is not the day to be thinking…but, the rest of the world doesn’t wait for me to feel better.

Hope your week’s going better than mine.

I stayed home sick today. I never call out sick. Sure, I go home partway through the day every so often, but I can’t remember the last time I took a full sick day.

It’s kinda awesome. I feel like crap, but I don’t have my normal ear infection/sinus infection/want to die. If this is how you normal people feel with a cold, I hate you. This is a freakin’ cake walk.

Anyway, I’ll be spending the day hacking up a lung, lounging, watching me some Queer As Folk DVDs and being used as a human pillow by the cats. Hope you all have good Friday.

I’m 28, right? You think that by now, I’d have learned how to eat. Having a box of mac n’ cheese as an afterschool snack every day in high school…well, it’s high school. I figured it’d stop when I got to college. You know, the not-limiting myself part. However, I can still eat a whole medium pizza in one sitting and follow it up with some ice cream. I used to be able to eat a large, but I’d rather not attempt it now. Because I’d totally be able to do it. Egads!

The worst part is that I was raised in a house where we cooked. A lot. So over the past few years, while I beat back some of the nasty weight I’d put on in the first part of my twenties (mmm, cans of Cheez Balls, I miss you)…I realized that I couldn’t binge if it wasn’t in the house. For the rest of you, that means not keeping chips or tubs of ice cream around. For me, it means not keeping anything delicious in the apartment.

Take last night. I had a relatively unhealthy dinner of pasta, pesto, tomato, and lots of cheese. I was going to stop at that, with some red wine as my sweet. Later, it occured to me I had deliciousness in the house. So, I convinced Nickolas to make cheddar biscuits and butterscotch custard – nice combo, right? And we ate them both. Completely.

My stomach hurts. I still don’t know how the rest of you are all, “oh, I’ll have half a donut.” I’ll take my donut, your half, and keep sneaking back for more.

So I actually had a lot of laid-back fun this weekend – I do know its Wednesday and almost the weekend again – although I now need sleep so badly I might burst into tears if anyone else tries to suggest I go out, have a drink, watch a movie, hang out, etc.

After picking Jules up at the airport, we stopped off downtown to buy her some clothes, then ran to my apartment so she could shower off the flight hangover – yes, I realize its only like, a three hour flight. We met up with some of my friends from work at a movie theater that serves martinis while you watch, to sneak in one last Oscar movie, (Venus, very enjoyable). Then we went out for appetizers at a Greek restaurant, followed by dinner at a sushi place, finished with cakes from a dessert-only establishment. Which, incidentally, set the tone for how all our food intake for the weekend would happen.

There was a visit to the EMP (music museum), more shopping, a winery tour, brunch with more friends, about ten or fifteen different restaurants (drinks and a small plate at each), and a brilliant (okay, drug-fueled) proposition to go visit Jimi Hendrix’s grave.

Add in a last-minute cup of coffee at the original Starbucks before the flight (the bum hanging out inside with us thought Jules’ bright silver/purple eyeshadow was fantastic, he said so), and that was that.

 Nick’s coming home tonight and I cant wait to get him into bed.