So much time and so little to do. Wait a minute. Strike that. Reverse it.

The half a pot of coffee I drank earlier has started to wear off, and thank goodness for that, because I was being far too productive for my own good, what with the vacuuming and the writing and whatnot. Alright, I didn't really do that much writing, but that's only because . . . yeah, I have no good reason.

But, you know, I gathered all the trash together, which I find exhausting. I haven't actually taken it out to the dumpster yet because I'm still in my pajamas (yes, I'm aware it's 1:30 in the afternoon) and CALL ME CRAZY, but I'm just not comfortable walking around the apartment complex in Strawberry Shortcake pajama pants. Not sure why.

Anyway, so my laptop and I are getting along really well. I think he/she needs a name, though. Suggestions? The best part about having a laptop now is that NOT ONLY can I spend half the weekend lounging around in bed reading, but I can also read the internet from bed. Heidi thinks I'm more obsessed with the internet than books, but I told her that, if given the choice, I'd give up the internet in a heartbeat. Sorry, guys. At Tamara's suggestion, Heidi is going to get this tattooed on her ass. I'm not sure why, but hopefully I'll have pictures to share soon. Only I hope not, because . . . yikes.

So now I'm sitting here contemplating whether I should crawl under the covers and finish my book or go outside for a run. I'm leaning toward the run, because I was out on the balcony earlier and it's so nice outside. I'm a little worried about the geese, though. You see, I like to run around the pond, but the geese are nesting and the boy geese are getting a little mean. I understand that they're only trying to protect their lady geese, but it's not like I'm poking around their eggs and trying to steal them. I don't even like goose eggs. I'm guessing here, since I've never actually HAD a goose egg. Do you think they're golden goose eggs, like in Willy Wonka? Oh wait. Those were swans. No, it was a goose, right? I need to brush up on my Wonka knowledge.

I think the run would be better for me. I need to get rid of all this nervous energy I have on account of I'M SEEING SPOON TONIGHT. At least, I'm supposed to see Spoon tonight. I'm excited, but mostly nervous since last year I was supposed to see them and they decided to go on SNL instead. Remember that? I almost cried. Don't you feel sorry for me?

I think in the back of my mind, I'm expecting to get down there and someone will come onstage and be like, "sorry, suckers, Spoon decided they'd rather take a nap on their tour bus than come inside and play for you all, so . . . go home." If this happens, obviously the only course of action will be for me to break onto their tour bus and kidnap them until they agree to play. Logic. Anyway, I hope to make the local news, but if I'm really lucky, maybe CNN. Fingers crossed!

I’m always thinking one step ahead. Like a carpenter that makes stairs.

I have the day off tomorrow and here are the things I need to do:

go to the grocery
balance my checkbook
go to the gym
get a drug test (for new job, not because I was arrested or anything)
go to the library
fill out paperwork for new job
clean room and bathroom
do laundry (but laundry, I barely know you!)

Just looking at that list exhausts me. EXHAUSTS ME. Here is what I will probably end up doing instead:

sleeping in A LOT
watching shows TiVo has recorded that I haven't gotten around to watching yet
reading
eating thin mints
watching shows TiVo has recorded that I won't delete because I like to watch them over and over
reading some more

I may be able to throw in something like doing laundry or showering or going to the gym. But not everything on the first list. I don't have any plans this weekend (LO-SER) so I need to leave something for Saturday night. Ha! Just kidding. If I'm home Saturday night I'm going to buy a bottle of wine and get drunk by myself, because Heidi will be at her boyfriend's. I. Am SO. PSYCHED.

So last night I went to bed around 11:30 and slept the sleep of the dead until about 2 o'clock when I inexplicably woke up. Maybe not inexplicably. I think it was storming last night and that may have been about the time a giant thunderclap scared Phoebe and she used my stomach as a launching pad off of the bed. OW, CAT. Anyway, so the rest of the night (early morning?) I had the WEIRDEST DREAMS EVER. Like, in the one I remember? This guy and I kept breaking into churches to have sex. Dear Family: I am so sorry I just shared that with both you and the entire Internets. Anyway, I have no idea who this guy was or why we had to break into churches to have sex. I guess that makes me both a giant slut and a giant sinner. Also, this was really elaborate breaking and entering, that sometimes involved climbing trees or removing bars from windows or rappelling from the roof when a church security guard (or Jesus) got too close. I think someone needs to tell Dream!Jennie and Dream!Guy that a hotel room would be a lot more convenient and also probably safer. Except for the coffeemaker. I saw this thing on the news or the Internets (or I made it up and can't remember) that you shouldn't drink coffee out of hotel room coffeemakers because sometimes people use them to make meth. I can't even begin to imagine how you'd make meth in a coffeemaker and also I'm not exactly sure what meth is or does which makes me pretty confident that I'll pass that drug test tomorrow.

Oh, that's great. I wrote a hit play and directed it, so I'm not sweating it either.

Does anyone else make themselves live by completely arbitrary rules? I do, if only to give my life the appearance of order. Like, say, on the weekends? If I wake up after 11:30, I'm not allowed to have coffee. Because, in my mind (scary place), coffee time is over at 11:30. Well, really, it's because if I wake up at 11:30, by the time I roll out of bed, brush my teeth, and get around to actually making said coffee, it's already after noon by the time the coffee is done. And I just don't drink coffee after noon. No, I don't know why.

Along the same lines, I also don't let myself eat lunch before noon. I don't care if I didn't eat the day before and I'm starving and my stomach is growling so loud that a small child just ran away screaming because he thought a tiny cheetah was going to burst forth from my insides, I make myself wait until the clock says 12:01. It's kind of like when I babysat my cousins all summer . . . they'd never want to eat breakfast so by the time 10:30 rolled around they were ready for lunch. Well, since I was a Lunch Nazi I'd make them wait until at least 11 because SERIOUSLY? You cannot eat lunch at 10:30. NO. FREAKING. WAY. This meant that around 10:45 each day I'd start hearing, "Jennie, can we eat lunch? Pleeeeaaaase?" and I'd say no and so they'd sit in front of the clock and the minute it was 11 I'd be ushered into the kitchen by two hungry and irate children. I didn't and DON'T care. Eating lunch before 11 is abnormal and I think their parents would agree with me. Also, for some reason my younger cousin never wanted to get dressed. I don't really blame him, because who DOESN'T like to spend all day in their pajamas? But I don't think my aunt would have been too happy to come home at 3 o'clock and find him sprawled out on the sofa in his Superman underwear watching Step by Step. For several reasons. ANYWAY.

Right, so other arbitrary rules include: no getting back into bed after showering in the morning (because I WILL fall back to sleep), no water after 10 PM (I have a tiny bladder NO SERIOUSLY like minuscule), no using my credit card for charges under $10, oh and also, no beer before liquor. That is the most important one.

I know it's strange to make up silly rules for myself, but trust me when I say, it feels so SO good to break them.

Defining "The Crazy" or Why It Took Me 30 Minutes To Make Coffee

Today I didn't leave the office between the hours of 7 AM and 6 PM, not even for lunch because I brought it with me and also I am lazy and also it was cold outside. Which meant, since our office was out of Diet Coke, I didn't get my usual afternoon caffeine fix, which meant that I was falling asleep at my desk. I even did that thing? Where you put your head in your hand? And then try to rest your elbow on your desk? But you miss so your elbow slips off the edge into your lap? That's right, I elbowed myself in the crotch. I DARE YOU TO JUDGE ME.

Anyway, since my dirty mistress Diet Coke wasn't there, I decided to make do with the old ball and chain. That's right, I made coffee. This is the first time I've ever made coffee in our office coffeemaker, because I usually bring my own in the morning. Hey, it might not be interesting but it's true so BITE ME. So, I started to pour the water into the . . . water holder thingie and ended up spilling half of it on the counter and, oh, also on my pants. While grabbing some paper towels, I knocked a key into the sink. I have no idea why this key was sitting there. As far as I know, no one knows what this key is for and that's why it has been sitting by the paper towels for the past two weeks. I thought about leaving it in the sink, but I was afraid someone might try to use the garbage disposal and I really didn't want to be responsible for breaking that since I'm already responsible for the sticky mess between the fridge and the counter because of that one time I spilled a Coke and didn't tell anyone and couldn't figure out how to clean the side of the fridge off without moving it like, COME ON, the fridge is heavy! I can't move it myself, people!

So, I'm standing there with my hand down the garbage disposal like I'm delivering a baby or something (yes, I went there) and the whole time I'm thinking, "Oh god, what if there's a freak jolt of electricity and it turns the disposal on and it chops all my fingers off forever and ever and I have to live the rest of my life with a horrible, mangled hand! Maybe I should be using my left hand, I use my right hand for all kinds of things and I don't think I could switch hands at this point in my life. OH GOD, where the fuck is this key I can't find it I don't wanna lose a finger no no no! Heh, although, maybe if I lose my whole hand I can tell people a seal bit it off," and so on.

I finally got the key out and then noticed that EW GROSS my hand was now coated with garbage disposal pus and food remnants from God knows when but seriously, God, don't tell me because I don't want to know. I washed my hands and then remembered the mess I'd made with the water all over the counter and dried that up. THEN I noticed the mess I'd made (ALSO with the water, a very important distinction) all over my pants and went to the bathroom to dry it and also to make sure it didn't look like I'd peed myself. If I had a dollar for every time I'd spilled some sort of liquid on my pants and spent the rest of the day looking like an incontinent person, well . . . I'd have at least 20 dollars. PROBABLY MORE.

And, ok, while I was in the bathroom I thought I might as well go! Why not waste as much time as possible? Well, our scrubs are the kind that tie in the back and the ties are really, really long. Even when tied. And somehow the way I sit in my chair at work causes my scrub top to become untied (I'm very antsy) and this makes the ties extra long. Today, a day which will live in infamy (in my brain, anyway), one of the ties fell in the toilet. Thankfully, before I used it. Because, seriously, that would have been disgusting if it had been after I'd used it. And I probably wouldn't be telling you about it (yes, I would).

SO. Then I had to go find some scissors to cut off the end of the tie that had fallen in the toilet, because I don't care if the toilet WAS cleaned today, I was not walking around with toilet water soaked into any part of my clothing. Once I had wandered around the office carrying one end of the tie out in front of me, explained what had happened to a couple coworkers, and found a pair of scissors, I realized that I had never finished setting up coffee. So, back to the breakroom I went and, not only did I spill more water in the process, but I also spilled coffee grounds all over the floor and then? I did what any responsible adult would do. I swept them under the rug.

THE END.