I'm sitting in the parkinglot of Taco Bell, rummaging through my purse to find my cash before I hit the drive-thru. There's plenty of room to go around me, and at least 5 people already did. This brain-dead poster child for retroactive abortion in an Audi pulls up behind me and proceeds to honk her horn repeatedly for me to move.
Apparently owning an Audi makes you stupid. I motioned her around me, flipped her off, and asked her if she was a retard, loud enough for her to hear through her fully-automated sun-roof.
This is abnormal behavior. I never call anyone that. My appologies to Rick and Sheryl, wherever you are. Rick used to work with Terry at Deane, and they had a son who was born so badly brain-damaged that I suspect to this day he doesn't walk. Nice kid. Nice parents. Sad, sad situation.
The cats have managed to tick me off to an extent I hadn't dreamed possible. There has been a stack of "I need to deal with this" boxes under the stairs for months. Yesterday as I was about to run out the door to work, they decided to topple it all over. The livingroom is a wreck. The cats are now afraid of me. This is good.
So they pick my name in the bi-monthly random drug screen. *shrug* I wonder if they will call me to tell me I'm testing positive for my heart meds, or whether I'll just get shitcanned for being an anti-hypertension addict.
Last nite was tense. Bad indigestion. I suspect I need to buy new margarine. That stuff really made me uncomfortable. Maybe I should just stop eating.
I've lost my energy for quilting. I wish I could find it back. Maybe over the weekend. The few squares I sewed together at the picnic for the "Ice Cream & Sherbet" quilt (an Irish Chain variation) looked nice together, but I didn't get back to it. Hand-sewing just isn't appealing right now. Besides, I got a TERRIBLE cramp in my wrist from what I did do that day. I'm thinking I need to go at it a bit less aggressively.
Ok, off I go. Behave yourselves.