Well shucks, ma. I was hoping for some serious weather this morning. Alas, here I am. At work. Therefore, that was not the kind of serious weather I wanted. They (you know, THEM) keep getting me excited for weather but I'm pretty doggone sure I haven't seen any weather in about the last year and a half. Where has all the weather gone? Well, leastways Jeff got the day off.

I'm going to talk about my job for a minute because I don't know what else there is to say anymore. I'm thinking right now of forming some kind of proposal for an oral history project. My boss asked for folks interested in doing WWII oral histories with students for ideas and I think there's a great chance to actually do meaningful english and drama and history stuff here, but I don't know how to go about it, or even if I want to go about it. Remember. I am an underachiever. I'm not sure I'm ready to overhall my reputation.

Speaking of underachieving, I have class in 30 minutes and I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing (but that's ok because this is my best class and they pretty much agree that anything we do will be GREAT--I love this class). Also? I have British Lit this afternoon and have yet to accomplish the reading for that class, let alone plan a fun and stimulating lesson. My head's not in the game today because of the (non)weather.

Speaking of having my head not in the game, yoga last night was hard. I usually love Wednesday night yoga because it's all about stimulating your prana (or, as I like to say, my P'ah--oops, not sure of Bajoran spelling on that) and doing all of these great meditation and breathing and relaxation and stretching things. Monday night yoga always kicks my butt because that's power yoga night, but Wednesdays are usually nice and refreshing. Last night, though, I couldn't get my balance or stretch or anything. My body felt so heavy and uncoordinated--stretching my arms felt like heaving great cement blocks over head. Lesson learned: I need to move my p'ah around more than once a week.

Pigs are coming! Day after tomorrow!

Next week we will be having two houseguests for the week (maybe). Jeff and his friend Mark and his employee Travis will be putting a new roof on the house and since those fellas live some distance from us, they will be staying at our house. Houseguests? Houseguests! This little project is about to break the bank for us (and I'm doing my damnedest not to get all agitated about it. Remember, Molly, money has nothing to do with wealth. Money has nothing to do with happiness or anxiety. RELAX ALREADY), but slowly, slowly we are getting this house put together again. We still have to put in the second bathroom and throw up the siding around that second bathroom and paint the house and insulate and throw up some walls in the big room (to make little rooms, sigh) and trim and put in heat and...oh yeah a ceiling in the kitchen. And closets. But it's a-getting there.

Speaking of misplaced anxiety, Jeff put in a lovely little cat door to the basement which is where the cats get their food and water and warmth when they don't want to come into the house proper (which is all the time if you are a cat and you're named Miss Blue and you HATE that vile Basho and that ubervile Peaches). I have been fretting over this thing since he put it in (three days ago) because I don't think the cats will figure out how to use it and then I fretted just one too many times and Jeff snapped at me! I know! Shocking! Mr. Even Steven! This is to illustrate the following: Jeff has never snapped at me. Which is crazy ridiculous because I ain't the easiest person to live with because I leave my shoes all over the house and other v. v. annoying things. Moral: Jeff rocks. And, based on his snappy reply, I bungeed the little door open all of the time (which, I know, kind of defeats the purpose) and we are all happy again. Phew.

Right, well. I best get a moveon(.org). Class, you know. Bye!