Alien Spouse

The Day's Achievements (Plural).

Today we got stuff done!

• Doc C made pancakes for breakfast and we listened to "Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me" on NPR.
• We bathed Eva and she was perfectly clean for about four hours - Then she got milk in her hair when I was changing her.  That's her favourite trick.
• I reluctantly took down the Halloween decorations.
• I started job hunting (If you know of any weekend work going in Asheville...)
• We had lunch in town - crepes and pommes frites. Delicious.
• Doc C took Eva for a walk and chatted with some of our neighbours.
• I did some hand washing and put away laundry (I have been trying to do that for days now, so it was far more exciting than it should have been)
• We played with Edith to try and tire her out a bit, so she won't chase Nancy around the apartment all night.
• Doc C made banana bread.

It doesn't sound like much, but believe you me it feels like we took on the tasks of Hercules and completed them all.  I am going to sleep SO well.

To Do List.

I had planned to do some stuff to do this weekend, and I did absolutely none of it. We fly out for a 5th anniversary weekend away on Friday morning, so I have to squish everything in to the next four days.

Monday: Laundry!
Tuesday: Clean the downstairs bathroom!
Wednesday: Re-Load all my CDs back onto my iPod! (I had to re-sync and lost 2/3 of my tunes. sigh.)
Thursday: Pack for Vegas, Baby!

And Relax.

It is finally Friday evening.

It's times like this that you really appreciate the forward passage of time.

Battle Plan.

Ugh. This week has been tough going, today was actually not that bad - but I suspect it's the calm before the storm. Tomorrow has the potential to be REALLY bad, but let's keep our fingers crossed for a change of pace.

My strategy is to dress for a challenge; probably my black shift dress with knee-high black DMs, and use that costume as a way to psych myself up to take on whatever the day may bring.

And make sure we've got gin and tonic in the house for when I finally get home again.

Cosmetics Query.

OK, someone is going to have to explain concealer to me.

Every time I buy make-up the women on the counter insist that I MUST have concealer, but I'd never bought any until a little pot of it came free with something else I wanted on Sephora. Now I've got the stuff I thought I may as well try it, and I put a bit under my eyes this morning when I put my tinted moisturiser on. I literally dabbed it on with my finger, and blended it in to the moisturiser before putting on a complexion balm (Benefit's Dr Feelgood, it mattifies but without powder which I prefer in the summer.) 

Gentle Reader, I hadn't really really noticed I had wrinkles under my eyes until I checked my make-up at lunch time today and discovered that the concealer had gracefully migrated into them and therefore heightened the effect. I took it from the name "Concealer" that the product was supposed to mask blemishes not make them more prominant.

Am I doing this all wrong? If so, what exactly should I be doing?

Randomly Defined Happiness.

According to the recent searches cloud in the right hand column 'Happiness is... 26" net underskirt... collection of Ngaio... high school kitsch... ornamental cabbage' 

There are several other items I would add to this list, but I think that's actually a pretty good starting point for an unintentionally generated list of random things. I wasn't sure what "high school kitsch" might be, and when I googled the phrase I was delighted to find it is most often used as a phrase by art or music critics.

Suggestions for a Friday Evening In.

It. Is. Friday. Night. If you are not planning an evening out on the town, then let there be much knitting; reading of books; watching of police procedurals and cooking of experimental pasta sauces. This is also an excellent occasion to rub a fluffy cat's belly.

Too Exhausted to Post Properly.

So... Tired... Oh first day of classes, you were quite the challenge. Not to mention the non-stop snow AND the Mondayness of the whole thing. It really takes it out of a girl.

To Sleep.

When I used to go out clubbing on a Friday night, I would probably be leaving the house or possibly the first bar around about this time of night.

The mere thought exhausts me now, which is fine because I'm already in bed.

Who Spilt My Weekend?

Were does the weekend go?  All I know is I had half a weekend right here, and I turned my back for a second and when I came back it was all gone.

Outrageous.

Weekend Plans.

It's Friday!  I am so ready for the weekend!  I've got a house to clean, a tank top to knit, brunch to eat, cats to fuss and a baby shower to make Lentil Salad and Cookies for!

You know put that way, I'm exhausted already.  

I think I may also need to schedule some lie-ins and maybe a nap or two.

Where Friday Went

Work, cup of tea, change of clothes, make-up and now we're going to a dinner party. This is a busy week!

Where Thursday Went.

Work, pub, nap and now "Project Runway".

Ummm, I shall not be writing a blog post this evening.

Improved Tuesday.

Today was pretty good actually, which was nice.  I had a job interview in the morning, and I quite enjoyed it oddly, but I won't hear anything for a couple of weeks though so I'll say no more at this stage.

Ugh.

Let's just say that today has been the sort of Monday that required me to pour myself a generous measure of Sailor Jerry Spiced Rum pretty much as soon as I walked through the front door this evening, and leave it at that, shall we?

TOYNBEE IDEA IN KUBRICK'S 2001 RESURRECT DEAD ON PLANET JUPITER.

This afternoon just got better and better after my nap; I left the hotel again to buy a hairbrush (I left mine at home) and on the way back from that, I saw a Toynbee tile.  I had totally forgotten about Toynbee tiles, and so I wasn't even looking for one.

At the corner of 8th and Market I was waiting for the lights to change in my favour, stepped off the curb and right there in front of me embedded in the road, I saw a white tile with hacked out letters telling me to resurrect the dead on Jupiter.

So exciting!  So totally nutty!  I love big cities!

And Now It's Tuesday.

I am so tired that I cannot think of anything remotely interesting to write about this evening. 

All I've got is the reclaimed navy blue knitting, Edith's sudden enthusiastic embracing of miaowing, the new desk configuration in my office (with a side note about the dried carpet) or how we just found the cable we've been looking for to get better sound when we watch on-line videos through the TV.

Eh.  I think you get the idea.

Jens Of The World Unite!

You know how there are trends in baby names, and there are noticeable fashions and trends?   I am personally aware of this because I'm called Jen and so are thousands of other women.  This has lead, at different points in my Jen career, to the only two real nicknames I've ever been given - "The Bond Blonde" and "Frank".

This is clearly because Jennifer, and variations of Jennifer, has been a very popular girls name for decades. Look, I have facts to back this up:

Popularity. (Data relate to England and Wales) Although no longer in the top ten girls' names, Jennifer is one of only seven names to have been in the top hundred every year between 1944 and 1994, the others being Sarah, Elizabeth, Catherine, Heather, Helen and Maria. The ten year rankings are:

	1994	1984	1974	1964	1954	1944
Jennifer	Rank: 42 (1 in 214)	Rank: 11 (1 in 67)	Rank: 34 (1 in 147)	Rank: 45 (1 in 162)	Rank: 23 (1 in 109)	Rank: 18 (1 in 66)
Source: First Names. The Definitive Guide to Popular Names in England and Wales 1944-1994, and in the Regions 1994 by Emma Merry with support from Kay Callaghan and Chris Cotton. HMSO, London. 1995

Fascinating, right?

This has a particularly satisfying knock-on effect, which is that listed on the International Rollergirl's Master Roster there are some fantastic Roller Derby sobriquets for Jens, Jennies, Jennifers and Jennys.  It's hard to chose a favourite, but I really like Jenniferocious, because it's the only one that uses Jennifer in it's entirety, but I also really like Jen X, because it's punchy.

And now we've segued over to Roller Derby, yes, I am SO looking forward to Drew Barrymore's directorial debut "Whip It".  I cannot wait!

Flirting With Disaster.

I'm not 100% sure, but I think somebody flirted with me today. I've always been very bad at noticing that, and when I do I don't find it flattering, instead I feel uncomfortable and embarrased. My usual defensive mode is to become very no nonsense and brusque, which works quite well. I once had a lady killer tell me how relaxing he found having lunch with me because he didn't need to be constantly trying it on, because I wasn't daft enough to fall for one of his lines. Which was probably just his more sophisticated line. sigh.

I do remember that part of what first attracted me to Doc C was that he didn't flirt, he was just friendly and straight forward.

Anyway, I particularly don't like it when I'm at work and someone flirts with me because I feel like I don't have an escape route. I once had someone at the next desk to mine e-mail some highly inappropriate photos, and I was so anxious to get the things deleted that it didn't occur to me until hours later that I should have reported the man to a manager. The incident today wasn't anything along those lines, but as I was the only person from my department in the office at the time I did feel very vulnerable. I'm sure the young man in question was only intending to be friendly and pay me a compliment, but none the less I wish he'd just said something innocuous about the weather in passing and gone about his business elsewhere.

Time's Winged Chariot.

I remember as a kid that time really seemed to drag, so a week was a long time, a month was ages and a year was just a mind-bogglingly vast amount of time.  My Mum told me that when you were a grown up time seemed to zip by, and at that age I couldn't imagine how on earth that would ever be the case.

Now?  Ohmigod!  Stop the ride I want to get off!

It's just ridiculous, how quickly this year is going.  How can it possibly be June already?  I used to work or study full time, read at least a book a week, watch several films, keep serious track of three soap operas and still have time to go out dancing.  Did I never sleep?  How on earth was that possible?

And somehow I'm hoping to fit in an English MA, so I've got to really scrutinise every hour of my week to see where I can possibly fit in, you know, breathing and stuff.

Where the Time Went.

Huh?... What time is it?.. Rats! Really? This weekend has completely got away from me, I seem to have been asleep for most of it.

(Yawn! Stretch! Rolls over and goes back to sleep)

Zoom!

Today felt really long, but I can't believe it's Wednesday already or that Friday will be the first of May!

I seem to remember someone telling me when I was a kid that time feels as though it speeds up as you get older. Maybe that's all it is.

Anyway, I've totally failed to get a photo today, and I'm too tired to find a good subject right now. I'll find you something extra good tomorrow!

A Sad Monday.

Today was particularly Monday, in many many ways. 

One of which is just really tragic, and frankly it was nothing at all to do with me.  I feel I shouldn't discuss it further here, because it's definitely work related for one thing, but mainly because it was very very sad.

I'm going to go and play with the cats for a bit.

You've Got To Have A System.

My keys were rapidly getting out of control, I just seemed to have so many of them; at least two of which were unwieldy and rarely actually used.

So after much thought I have developed a three keyring system.  Stay with me here.

1. My house keys remain on my favourite sardine can keyring.
2. My car key moved onto the outsize rubber goldfish keyring.
3. My office keys go onto a quick release keyring, that is then attached to the goldfish keyring.

All three are then attached to the carabiner, along with the allen key which I need for the fire escape doors.

You see this way I can keep everything organised, but even better I can actually fit whichever keys I need at any one time into my pocket.

Which is very sensible.  And none of this has anything to do with the fact that the eyes of the rubber goldfish are bright blue LEDs, that flash whilst a litle speaker in the fishes tummy makes electronic underwater sounds.  Not to mention I love the flamboyant tail!  It makes me happy!

Fun with Names!

One of the excellent things about having a first name with three syllables is that it gives you some flexibility and over the course of my life time I have been known as:

1. Jen - The simplest form of my name, and my usual default setting in a social setting.
2. Jenny - My name for most of my childhood, and then I decided that I HATED being called that so then I insisted everyone call me Jen.
3. Jen-Pen - Thanks Mum!
4. Jenks - Thanks Mum!
5. Jenky-Jen - Thanks Mum!
6. Blonde Jen - My University nickname, because my BFF is also called Jen and she is a red-head.
7. Frank - There were three other Jens in one workplace, so I got the nickname Frank after a flamboyant 80's football star via a very tenuous bit of rhyming slang.
8. JC - You cannot beat the beautiful simplicity of initials, I shall not reveal what the C stands for though.
9. Jennifer - I like to use Jennifer at work, because it sounds so much more efficient doesn't it?
10. "Jennifer Middle-Name Last-Name" - Only used when my mother had to let me know in advance that I was in really big trouble).

Everyday Objects.

Today's photo post is of my glasses case and cleaning cloth:

I really like the abstract pattern of eyeballs on the case, but I think the girl on the cloth is really annoyed about something.

Early Mid-Week Slump.

I am so tired.  Yeah, it's Tuesday and I am already exhausted.

Whee! K End!

This weekend being our second wedding anniversary, Doc C is whisking me away from it all.

He's organised for the cats to be fed and booked a hotel, so we can leave straight after work.

That has certainly improved my day!

How I Got My New Phone.

Oh!  I still haven't told you the phone story have I?

Well, do you remember that the stupid phone broke?  About six months before my contract was due to be up? And then remember I got the text saying that I could upgrade?  And I checked on-line and in-store, and they said both said that the text was wrong? Then that I sent a very spiky e-mail to customer service?  Did you remember all of that?  Good!  You guys really pay attention!

So I never had a response to my e-mail, but Doc received a letter with his name and my phone number on saying that he could get an upgrade for that line.  Great!

He called the number listed then explained about the letter and the broken phone.  He was passed around about five different people, and had to explain the whole story to every single one.  When he came off the phone, I knew before he said a word to me that he had been told that I would have to accept the same damn phone as the broken one and that I could not have an upgrade.  I knew this because he had not asked me what phone I wanted to upgrade to.

At this point I became really annoyed.  I asked if I could borrow Doc's phone to call customer service back and I gave them a very polite, but ice cold, piece of my mind.  By the time I came off the telephone I had arranged that a new phone would be delivered to me within three days, and Doc C said that he was very glad I had never spoken to him like that because it was scary.  It was quite empowering!

I don't think I'm a particularly demanding customer; but if a company tells me I can have something then I expect to get it, and if they try and weasel out of it, well, then I get feisty.

The new phone, by the way, rocks.

My Keys.

In case you've ever wondered, this is what my keys look like.

And yes, my keyring is a miniature tin of sardines, complete with red enamel to represent tomato sauce.  Sardines are very good for you, you know.

W00t!

It's Friday, and I got paid yesterday.

Time to pay my credit card bill I think.

Pink-and-White Baseball

If you were to rifle through my handbag, you would find a pink-and-white baseball.

It's regulation.

Hot Dog Jumping for Albuquerque. *

You know when your mobile rings and the number that pops up on the screen isn't accompanied by a name, so that means it's not already listed in your phone?  I'm fairly certain that when this happens everyone has the same brief conversation with their phone before answering "Who's that?  I don't recognise that number.  3617?  No, I really don't think I know that number."

And then you answer, and it's generally a wrong number; on my phone particularly, because hardly anyone has my mobile number in the states.  Actually I quite enjoy answering wrong numbers now, because you can virtually hear them thinking "I called ENGLAND?  What the hell did I dial?"  When I'm feeling devilish I might put a little bit more Received Pronunciation into my accent to really confuse them.

Clearly you can dial a wrong number quite easily, but this morning I had Skype up so that I could have a quick IM chat with my Mum and I left it open.  Then out of nowhere a message from a Skype user name I didn't recognise popped up saying "Hallo!", and auto-requested that I add her as a contact.  It's really not easy to stumble across me on Skype, you have to know my username and that's actually 24 characters long, so it's quite hard to type in accidentally!

The thing is that when I got that message there was a picture of a blonde lady in a nice dress and it said the sender was in Tucson.  I've never been to Tucson and, as far as I'm aware, I don't know anyone in Tucson.  Now the profile has changed to say that the sender is in Albuquerque, and the photo has vanished.   So I am highly confused, and when confused I can become slightly paranoid.

Just in case this is one of my internet buddies, who I didn't previously know lived in New Mexico, and who has now unexpectedly de-lurked via Skype; please could I request you to leave a comment here, just so I know who you are?  Thanks ever so!

*  I couldn't resist!  When else will I get to reference Prefab Sprout's big hit?

What Would John Stuart Mill Say?

Having moved to the sofa last night, so we could sleep without wind noise, we simply heaped the covers and pillows back on the bed today.

The problem is that now neither of us wants to re-make the bed, because it will be a hassle.  A subtle war of wills has ensued.

However one of us, naming no names, has resorted to lightly batting the other with a copy of "The Subjection of Women" in an attempt to compel their wife into doing this domestic duty.

Oh, the irony.

Just Take The Money!

After eight phone calls, and several rounds with their website, I am so angry with Barclaycard that I now have a headache, bright red ears and slightly smudged mascara from my red hot Tears-of-Rage.

All I want to do is pay them £11, why are they making that so damned difficult? 

Apparently the newly automated system can't get it's virtual head around my debit card being American, and no-one has any idea how, or indeed inclination, to make it.

Don't worry though, I've sent them a very angry e-mail.

A Smashing Time.

The-Boys-From-Next-Door are out on the driveway breaking stuff. 

I don't know exactly what it is that they're breaking.  I think it would be nosey to ask, don't you?

One thing I can tell you though is that the sound of plastic being repeatedly thrown against tarmac, until it finally shatters, is oddly disconcerting.

The Fine Art of Complaining.

Earlier this week I was quite unhappy with my UK mobile phone company.  I have since been in correspondence with their customer service department, and they now see things my way.

So much so that they are no longer insisting that I owe them any money at all, and are instead actually sending a cheque to me.

I cannot stress enough that being able to phrase a good polite complaint is an excellent skill to have in your repertoire.  Also it's generally the case that the first complaint you make will be answered with a polite rebuff, always reply to this rebuff by firmly restating your argument and, if possible, reinforcing the more salient points with further proof.

Oh, and if you can quote one of their own letters back at them to make your point, that really does prove you've been paying more attention then they have.

Hoover.

Here's a picture of my new vacuum cleaner, whose full name is Hoover Kenmore. 

Hoover and I have now vacuumed everything carpeted that stayed still long enough,  It's been delightful, we make an excellent team.

For demonstration purposes my foot is on the cable retraction button, but in actual fact it's really only in the shot to give you an idea of the scale (if you want to be scarily specific about the sizing here, then the Turquoise Chuck Taylor All Star that I'm wearing is a UK size eight).

To counter the wild rumours sprouting from the comments section that my purchasing of new vacuum cleaner somehow elevates me to the standing of Domestic Goddess, I feel honour bound to point out that I have been living here without a vaccum since the end of October, and it is now March. 

The carpets have, therefore, languished unloved and unvacuumed for just over four months under my regime.  And that's not counting the three months prior to that when the Doc was here by himself.

I suggest we simply agree to draw a veil over the whole unvacuumed (for seven months) carpet, by bearing in mind one of my favourite Quentin Crisp quotes:

"After four years, the dust doesn't get any worse."

Mobile Phone Hassle.

Vodafone.  Gah!

That's all I have to say on the matter here, but believe you me, someone in their Customer Services (ha!) Department just received an e-mail that is a lot less succinct, and a lot more indignant.

A Theory.

I think the lads next door may have built a fairground bumper car in their living room. 

I can't otherwise understand how they keep repeatedly slamming into apparently every vertical surface in their flat without requiring medical attention.

Haircut

I haven't had my hair cut since October.  So now it's got past that certain length where it starts to flick out uncontrollably at the end, feather everywhere like a tribute to 80's pop bands and, to complete the look, go flat on top.

It's driving me crazy.

Doc C has never known me to have long hair, I've had a short pixie cut for the entire time we've been together.  So naturally he thinks me having longer hair is a great idea, and that it looks cute.  That's probably because he's never seen the pair of Hasidic corkscrew curls that naturally form just in front of my ears when my hair gets long.  I am not joking.  I look like a young Jewish man, with strong religious convictions.  It's not a good look for an atheist woman.

This afternoon I have an appointment at a hairdressers.  Which is terrifying, because for almost 10 years I've been able to simply turn to the ever lovely Snelling and say something mad along the lines of "A sort of Peter Pan meets an Eton School boy in the mid-sixties thing." which he'll understand and interpret so it looks good.  And that is of the beauty of having a top class hairdresser as your flatmate.  sigh.

All I know about the guy whose hand will be guiding the scissors today is that I walked past the hairdressers last Halloween, and saw he had dressed up as quite a good Captain Jack Sparrow.  What you have to ask yourself is whether a man who can pull off looking like a rum-soaked sea-dog is going to be able to cut a decent do?  It's nerve wracking.

I like the Smell of Victory in the Mornings!

I bought some deodorant last night. I really like this Arm and Hammer one that is "powered by baking powder", but they didn't have unscented left in stock. 

After much debate and sniffing of fragrances, I decided to go with Victory.

In case you are wondering, Victory has a nice clean lemon soap sort of smell.

The Lino Saga - The Aftermath

You thought the whole lino thing was over and done with, didn't you?

Well, a couple of days after the lino had been fitted I put a load of dark clothes (always wash with similar colours) in the washing machine.  I switched it on, and the machine just made a sad noise at me.  I switched it off, and back on again, but there was still no water and it continued to make the sad noise.  I realised that Lino Man had switched off the water when he moved the machine to fit the lino under it, but hadn't turned it back on.  Fortunately the taps to the washing machine pipes were in easy reach, so it was but the work of a moment to get my washing back on track.

On Friday there was a knock at the door, and one of the building handymen said that Lino Man had told him the toilet in our en-suite bathroom was leaking.  We said it wasn't.  He said Lino Man had reported that he had turned the water off to the cistern and left us a note about it.  We said no, the water hadn't been turned off for either of the toilets but it was for the washing machine, and we hadn't had a note about any of it.  Naturally he didn't seem keen to take our word for it, so we let him investigate both toilets and see for himself that there was no leak.

So now the handyman has to go and visit every flat that had lino fitted to see which of them hasn't been able to use one of their toilets for almost a week.

Lino Man, causing weeks worth of havoc where ever he goes.  I wonder if that's on his business cards?

The Lino Saga - The Return of the Handyman

I'm delighted to report that we now have fully fitted lino in both bathrooms and the kitchen.

I don't know, it seems almost too easy somehow.

There's a Fifty/Fifty Chance The Day Could Go Either Way.

Today we're getting up early and heading to the Social Security office with all possibly relevant paperwork and a steely determination to get some answers.  Whilst we are doing that, the lino guy should be coming back to do the kitchen and maybe even finish the bathrooms.

So, what with one thing and another, today could be really really good, or really really frustrating, or a paradoxical conversion of the two states of mind.

The Lino Saga - Photos

I thought as you'd now heard so much about the new lino, that perhaps you would like to see a photo of what all the fuss has been about. I actually quite like the lino itself, that wooden flooring effect is a vast improvement on the old one.  Please see the comparison shots below to judge for yourself.

What wasn't immediately obvious at first glance, but soon became apparent, is that the lino hasn't been stuck down or secured in anyway.  It's just been cut to size and then put down on to the bare floorboards.

I won't bore you with them here, but I also took photos of the mess the guy left in the flat, which included smeared rusty hand prints on the bathroom door (at least, I keep telling myself it was probably rust), and bits of toilet left in in a pool of murky water on the side of the sink.

And don't let's forget that they haven't finished yet, we'll be going through the whole thing again on Monday for the kitchen floor.  Let's hope the third time is the charm

The Lino Saga - To Be Continued...

The Doc's phone just rang.

Would you be surprised if I told you it was the office calling?

Would you then be surprised to hear that the lino guys did show up today?

Would you be further surprised that the guys had run out of lino after doing the two (very small) bathrooms, and will be back on Monday to do the kitchen?

No, none of that surprised me either.

The Lino Saga Strikes Back

Occasionally the Doc or I will have a sudden flash of clairvoyance, never about anything useful like a winning lottery number but when we both have the same pre-sentiment at the same time it's quite often dead on the money.

At ten to nine yesterday morning, just as we had finished moving all of the furniture in the flat to be of the least obstruction and annoyance to the handyman who would be coming to lay the floor, and we were ready to leave the flat for as long as necessary, we both suddenly felt certain we had completed a pointless exercise.

I said "Are you sure they meant this Monday?"

Doc said "Yes, definitely, but now I think of it it is really strange that they would arrange workman to come on a state holiday."

We both looked at each other, and we both suddenly knew that the guy was not going to show up, because, as I'm sure you are aware, the general rule in this type of situation is that the most irritating outcome is by far the most likely.  Let's apply this pessimistic reasoning to yesterday morning:

• As we were ready with time to spare, the workman wouldn't turn up early or be on time.
• As we had no urgent appointment to keep, or indeed any set plans for the day, they wouldn't be late. 
• As we had got up early on a public holiday, and considerately re-arranged all the furniture in to the least obstructive but, for us, least comfortable configuration, that meant they would not turn up on the agreed day but will re-schedule for the same time on another occasion.

We waited.  At 9.28 Doc's phone rang.  Unsurprisingly it was the office.  The guy's truck had broken down, so he would come at the same time the next day instead.  The Doc asked if that was definite, and the lady in the office said it depended on if they got their truck fixed.

There may at this point have been some swearing, for which I can only apologise.

We looked at all of our furniture, which was now arranged in such a manner that we couldn't get anywhere near the sofas to sit down, and we decided to just leave it as it was and still go out for the day.  Fortunately we had been invited to Randy and Laura's house to watch some politics and some sci-fi that evening, so things weren't all bad.

This morning we went through the same routine as yesterday, except this time Doc phoned the office at nine to tell them we were leaving for the day, and to check the workman would have keys.  As far as I am aware, right now, there is a guy in our flat measuring up but I won't be surprised if I get home to find only half of one bathroom done and bare floorboards littered with rusty nails in the kitchen.  sigh.

January: The Holiday-less Month

I took our Christmas decorations down last week, but I still missed epiphany by a day or two which is supposed to be unlucky I think, although being a heathen I have no idea why. Fortunately I'm not alone because the town's and most of the local restaurants' Christmas decorations are still in place.  Interestingly most of the shops have now moved relentlessly onto Valentine's day.  That seems like a big leap to me, to go from Christmas cakes to Valentine chocolates overnight.

The Doc and I were talking about this phenomenon, because I don't think it's something you'd see in the UK, and we realised that every single month in the American calender has a major holiday that apparently needs some type of specially themed presents, colour co-ordinated decorations, large amounts of food or outsize greeting cards cards, with the notable exception of January. 

I honestly think that if one of the current Presidential candidates announced that he or she had discovered a previously under appreciated holiday in the middle of January and it was part of their campaign to give people another valid excuse to have time off work and ignore their diets, quite seriously that candidate would be elected by a landslide majority.  And they would have the backing of corporate America because all of the shops could sell more of the same themed nonsense for an exorbitant fee.  It's a win-win.

For example when was Edison's birthday?  Who cares about historical accuracy, let's just say it's mid-January and have a special day where people celebrate the mysterious wonder of electrical goods, and give each other gifts of cutting edge digital gadgets.  Edison Day sounds pretty good and it could unofficially be called Geek-Out Day.

***Postscript***

Almost immediately after I wrote this we bumped into our friends Kim and Jill, and I told them about my brilliant idea.  Jill pointed out that actually January has Martin Luther King Day, which schools and some businesses close for but there isn't a huge to do about otherwise.  The Wikipedia history of the day (which that link takes you to) is really interesting, and politically charged.  I would hate to see Martin Luther King Day become hugely over-commercialised and tacky though, what January is missing is a nice big obnoxious excuse for excess in some form or other.

Better.

I feel a lot better today.  My head feels like it's mostly back to it's correct weight and density, which is nice.

I did still take my day nurse this morning, and had a nice big glass of effervescent vitamin C.  It doesn't do to take the defences down too quickly, there could easily still be some marauding germs waiting to make an eleventh hour covert strike.  They are sneaky like that.