In which there are many pictures in today’s post because it’s Monday and I’m too grumpy to actually write anything.

Friday after work I went to my stylist’s brand new salon:

and got my hair done. I asked her to give me a bob and dye it brown, which she did. It now looks like this:

I don’t like the color – it’s too dark for summer – and am going to have her lift it several tones at my next appointment.

Saturday I lounged around being a lump. (I did get all my laundry done, though.) Saturday afternoon I went to a fun family BBQ, and Teh BF and his Momsie came too:

Saturday night I went to the PnE, where Feedback was playing, and got drunk. I even sat in with the band a few times, and so did my brother:

Sunday, Teh BF and I drove around all over town running errands. I spent $100 on HABA (and a couple of clothing items) at Walmart because I was out of everything. I bought nifty bento stuff at the Asia Oriental store and packed it for lunch:

Today I am getting unreasonably irritated with my customers when they say dumb stuff, which leads me to mention that my vacation is at T -25 and counting. I absolutely cannot convey how very excited I am to be about to:

1. Leave town.
2. Fly. (I love airports. Sick but true.)
3. Go to the retreat in Dallas.
4. See Mother.
5. Not have to work for a week.

And how were your weekends, my babies?

In which it was totally worth $44 because I feel better.

This morning I decided that my dog was acting a little off and maybe running a temperature, so I took her to the vet.

They took her temperature (totally normal) and interviewed me about her behavior (she’s eating and drinking and eliminating) and poked and prodded her tummy (no pain response) and said she’s fine. If she pukes I’m supposed to bring her in for X-rays, but other than that she’s in fine shape for an old girl.

Which means that your narrator is a dork with an over-developed panic response. I now think that I was vibing so weird that I made my dog act weird. Can I get a witness?

*crawls back under her rock*

In which I’m feeling the effects of mind over matter.

God, I feel like ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag.

This morning I got up, showered, dressed, and then sat at the table and ate a BLT with fake bacon. It was delicious.

When I finished eating, I pulled a bunch of stuff out of the fridge and started packing my lunch for the day. The window showed a clear day with blue skies, and the thermometer was at eighty degrees.

Bindu puked on the living room rug. G’ma called her – with the intention of letting her go outside to finish – and she came across the house to the back door, hunched over and clearly not feeling well.

As we approached her to let her out, she started scrambling on the linoleum as if on ice, and then bailed into G’ma’s bedroom. Panic hormones EXPLODED in my body. I followed her in, she was in distress. I called her name, approached her, she fell over, panting.

I petted her: she was breathing and had a steady heart beat ohgodohgodohthankGod but I thought her tongue looked white. G’ma asked if we needed to go to the vet. I said yes and broke for the kitchen to throw my food back into the fridge while G’ma dressed.

By the time G’ma stood with her keys in her hand, Bindu seemed fine. I cleaned up the puddle on the living room rug: she’d puked up a feminine hygiene pad. I don’t know where she got it; I don’t know if it came out of our own garbage or if she found it somewhere else. (We live on an alley full of garbage cans, and she’s a crafty old blue bitch.)

She continued to seem fine. I texted Teh BF for a ride to work, he said he’d swing by and pick us up. I gathered my things for work, then walked Bindu down the alley. She wiggled, she peed, she pooped, she sniffed things.

We waited on the porch for our ride. My whole physiology was a mess: my skin hurt and I was way beyond stressed out, but the dog seemed fine. Frisky, even.

At work, Bindu produced two more puddles of dog puke that I had to clean up with paper towels while on the phone teching a DSL customer. I poured myself a huge glass of water (on the theory that it would help me flush out the stress hormones) but I have only managed to drink half of it.

Right now, Bindu’s lying on the floor near my desk and seems perfectly normal. On the other hand, I feel nearly sick from fear and worry.

I know that nothing has happened to me that isn’t purely intellectual, but I feel freaking awful. My body literally aches. I keep watching her and thinking her behavior is off even though I can see that it’s not. I’m so stressed that the A/C has me shivering. It’s stupid.

I can’t even decide if I should call the vet. KJ thinks she seems fine, she’s acting like she always does, and I can’t even count the number of pads she’s eaten and puked up in her life… If I call, they’ll probably tell me to bring her in for observation or at least blood work and she really doesn’t look like she needs it.

In other words, my dog puked and now I’m having a panic attack because I’m a freak.

Ugh. I’m broken. My kingdom for a nap!

In which my life looks better on the Internet than it does in real life.

I’m one of what’s called a “skeleton crew” of three people in the office today consisting of myself in tech support (and reception and billing) and two guys in the sales queue. All of management gets the day off paid, of course, and the receptionist does too. I get to work it because I got New Year’s day off (and so will hopefully get the next holiday off paid). The holiday schedule is rotating… if you count my working every single holiday save one in 20 months ‘rotating.’

Being the only person in three queues means that this is the busiest I’ve been in weeks. It’s rather nice. Of course it’s not so busy I don’t have time to write, but the pace has been pretty steady so far: I’ve completed 34 calls and have been on the phone for 3 of the 5 hours I’ve been here.

I’m trying to maintain a good attitude but I still expect to get laid off any minute. I applied at the local temp agency a couple of weeks ago, just to feel pro-active about something. They called me last week and said they had absolutely no work.

I’m sitting under a blast of arctic, frozen air. I’m wearing a fleece vest with the collar up and fuzzy socks and I’m still freezing. The vent above my head is taped shut so I can’t really figure out where the air is coming from, but I do know that the building’s had its interior walls moved several times with no HVAC redesign so it’s to be expected that there are hot and cold spots… I just wish I wasn’t always sitting in a cold spot. It’s not warm enough outside today to warrant this kind of relentless A/C.

Bindu got her first bath in almost two years Saturday. The water sluicing off that dog and down the drain was a pretty foul color, and I felt kinda bad about it. But I got her all shampooed and rinsed and toweled off and combed and now she’s a walking plush toy, so soft and fluffy. Her undercoat is blowing out much more easily now and I think she’s more comfortable.

Next I’m going to take her in for her annual checkup and, if she’s healthy enough for anesthesia, get her teeth cleaned. She’ll hate that, but her teeth have never been cleaned and they’re a mess. I brushed them Saturday (chicken flavored toothpaste!) and scratched a bunch of calculus off one of her teeth with my thumbnail. Her gums can’t be at all happy.

Last night Teh BF and I had a BBQ on my brother’s patio. The guys had bacon cheddar burgers (and Teh BF geeked out taking this pic so heavily that I threatened to tell the Intarwebz that he was making O noises over a freakin’ plate of food) and I had a grilled portabella on a bun. Afterward, he and I went and watched Star Trek in my room. It was awesome and I’m not ashamed to say so! I thought it was a really charming addition to the goofiest sci-fi franchise ever. Action packed! It was like Star Trek meets Star Wars meets Doctor Who meets Indiana Jones: everything I like, all rolled into one silly big-budget sci-fi romp. Boom!

Finally got tickets for Dallas purchased. Ended up they were $70 each more than the original ones by the time it was all said and done, but we’re still going to DFW and back through Pasco for less than $400 each so I’ll consider it a win.

In other news, my nails look fantastic.

In which I describe one of my many neurosis: the one where I’m some kind of anti-social biatch.

I’m such a Libra.

I have some kind of internal device – yes, very much like a scale, thank you – which constantly weighs my external perception of others’ happiness against my internal comfort level. If the people on the outside appear to be more comfortable than I am uncomfortable on the inside, I just go with the flow.

I assume that people say and do what they want (even though apparently I don’t, myself) and I spend way too much time doing what I think my S.O. wants until one day I wake up and hate his guts because I didn’t get my own needs met.

Lately, I spend virtually all of my non-work time with Teh BF, doing essentially nothing, because he seems to want to hang out more than I don’t want to.

It’s a non-issue, really, until I spend some unscheduled time alone (like I did last Tuesday night, when Teh BF was home sick) and suddenly realize that I can’t remember the last time I spent some unscheduled time alone.

Tuesday night I was home from work by 7:15. It was still full daylight out. I sat on the porch and read for awhile (!!!), and then I went upstairs into my newly rearranged room (!!!) and hung out with my dog and watched five episodes of 30 Rock on Hulu (!!!) and started a knitting project (!!!).

It was ineffably awesome.

My schedule has turned into one in which I spend 40 hours a week at work, sleep and bathe at home, and spend the rest of my time with Teh BF. We either go out and drink or we go to his place and watch TV. I don’t get my laundry done, or pluck my eyebrows, or clean my room or knit or build that website AmmZon needs or clean the bathroom or hand-wash my delicates or vacuum, and I’m perpetually behind on all the little things people need to get done in their lives.

I spend a bunch of time with Teh BF because that’s what we’re in the habit of doing. Whether we want to or not.