Today is one of those days where I was dreaming about work, (and also about ordering from Jimmy John’s), and when I awoke, I was slightly baffled by the lack of need to go into work. One of the best thing about working retail is that you get days off during the week. Of course, the flip side to that is working most weekends. I don’t really mind, but sometimes it would be nice to have a more regular schedule, even if it was always 2-10 or 10-6 or something. On the other hand, if it were always 7-3… well, it just doesn’t bear thinking about.
So, I’m relaxing today, or trying to, and happy that the a/c was on all last night leaving the apartment so cold I have to stay covered up to keep warm. I may trot down to the bank later and actually enjoy the heat. I can wear my new black and hot pink sneakers, which I got on clearance for $5.24 at Target. I never get awesome deals like that, not with size 11-wide feet.
Last night I felt all a-misery because I’d worked pretty hard during the day without any ibuprofin. I took 3 pills that evening and they didn’t seem to do much good until a neighbor brought me a piece of tiramisu and the caffeine from the espresso in it kick-started me into a bliss of pain-free-ness. I even perked up after True Blood was over and was awake until eleven before the exhaustion headache kicked in. Ah, True Blood, the only reason I wasn’t in bed at seven. Was hoping the promised shower scene would be in this episode, but I live in hope that it will be there next week!
Tomorrow both Ghost Story by Jim Butcher, and Spell Bound by Kelley Armstrong are released. They are both pre-ordered on my nook. I’m certain I will set aside Drood by Dan Simmons, (sorry, Dan!), but I don’t know which I will read first. I’m only a couple chapters into the Simmons book, and while I find it quite interesting so far (and I’ve been thinking about reading it for ages, as well as The Last Dickens by Matthew Pearl), perhaps I would be better to set it aside so I can read both in their entirety. I bought Drood on my nook because the weight of the tome was detrimental to carrying it around with me, but I got The Last Dickens for 3.99 at bn.com, as well as Lev Grossman’s book The Magicians.
Generally, Dickens as an author doesn’t much interest me. I tried to read a few things in my youth, but never much got into any of them. Then came Bleak House, a 900 page tome I had to read in my British Lit class in college. It would have been fine, but the same three weeks I had to read it, with 18 credits on my plate as it was, I got sick. Like mono sick. I thought it was strep throat and went to the clinic at school, but they said it wasn’t. It wasn’t the ragingly wicked mono that can knock you out for months, but for those three weeks, even after the worst symptoms went away, I was exhausted. Imagine falling asleep every chapter in a book that has 67 chapters. I made it through, but I honestly don’t remember a bit about it.
However, Dickens as a character interests me a great deal. The ego he had, the wife he called bovine-like (and hey, if all you can do is knock her up, no wonder she might remind you of a cow, dumbass), the mistress and the horrible accident, the downfall in mental state. Those crazy Victorians! Which reminds me, I have the second disk of Desperate Romantics to watch from Netflix yet. Poor John Ruskin. One hundred and fifty-plus years later, and people are still talking about his weird sex life. See Controversies. Of course, they still talk about Lewis Carroll and J. M. Barrie, too. Does creativity and brilliance lead to weirdness?
At any rate, I ought to do at least something constructive today. I don’t know that blogging counts, though it is something more than I typically accomplish. Better anyway than snoring facedown in the pillow like I spent my entire morning.