T.G.I.F.

I'm really happy it's Friday.  And I can soon get away from this computer screen and the internet. 

I often question how anyone got anything done at work without the Internet.  Then again, I sometimes question how anyone gets anything done at work with the Internet.

Like when your colleague alerts you to the fact that for one day only (ONE DAY ONLY!) Lord & Taylor is having a 60% off all coats sale.  And before you know it you've got four coats in your checkout cart (and two pairs of boots, for good measure) and you're not really sure how they got there...it was all a Friday-afternoon-induced haze!

Yes.  I need to get myself away from the Internet as soon as possible.

******

Just for your peace of mind, Blake (and anyone else who is currently interested in my personal finances), I am not actually going to buy anything.  The cart is as far as this madness will go.

As cute as the Kenneth Cole trench is, Christmas is fast approaching and I'm saving my pennies to spend on gifts for others.  Not gifts for myself.

Everyday Geometry

I've been a compulsive straightener since the fourth grade.  It was round about this time that I stopped collecting knick-knacks, asked for a closet organizer for my birthday, and never looked back.

My Mom could always tell when I'd come home from college to visit for the day because she'd walk into the living room and all of the pillows on the couch would be lined up just-so and the magazines on the coffee table would be overlapping at the exact right angle.

I can't help it.  I go through a room and I feel the need to straighten.  To line up.  To re-arrange.  Unfortunately it's not relegated just to my own home.  I get itchy fingers when I'm at someone's home and the angles don't match up.  My apologies in advance to any friends whose couch pillows end up in a different order than you'd prefer.  I have a problem.

Sometimes the angles test my patience and my will-power.  Like they're there on purpose.  Take, for example, the second guest chair in my office.  Every morning I come in and it's askew.  Angled haphazardly to the wall and the side table.  Every morning I straighten it so that it's parallel with the wall and perpendicular to the side table.  Every morning. 

I'm seriously considering staying late one of these days to see who on the cleaning crew is messing with me.  What kind of joke is this?

Encore les Manifs!

I was there the last time the students rioted in Paris.  In 2006 it was the same result from a different cause.  Then it was the ability of employers to fire their employees.  Now it's the raising of the retirement age from 60 to 62. 

I wonder if they've taken over Le Louvre yet?  That, for me, was one of the highlights: free entry to the Louvre, and the ability to take my backpack along with me.

Oh the memories.  French socialism at its best.

Comme les lycéens sont si expressifs.   

Keepin' in classy.  via slate.fr

Quasimodo.

This morning on the metro I sat next to an older man who was snoring like his life depended upon it.  You have to be truly tired to snore louder than the clackity-clack of the train.  Another likely requisite is a comb-over.

The snoring didn't bother me too much, though.  I actually found it rather entertaining.  Most importantly, it helped keep my mind off my swollen eye.  Well, swollen lower eyelid.  It's been increasing in redness, itchiness and size since yesterday morning...though I think it's finally reached it's maximum capacity.

Oh well, it's not the first time I've looked like Quasimodo at work.  It probably won't be the last, either.

Autumn in NH

Is there anything more beautiful than Autumn in New England?  Here is the view from our bedroom at the lake.

We took a day trip to Robert Frost's house and I decided that when we get a dog I'd like to name it Dogbert Frost, in his honor.

And here we are at one of the many covered bridges along the New Hampshire highways.  Isn't it picturesque?

Aren't we picturesque, too?  (Kidding, of course.  It seems that whenever I'm in New Hampshire I conveniently forget to wear any sort of make-up or attempt to dry my hair...which is perfect because the only time we seem to take pictures is when we're in New Hampshire.  Oh well, c'est la vie.)

On my Conscience.

Meet Jiminy.  King of the crickets.  He currently resides in the back corner of our basement, terrorizing me with every hop.

Oh and before you judge me for being afraid of a harmless cricket, just to give you a feel for size: the moulding and baseboard on which he's currently lurking is about 4 inches tall.  And he can jump to eye-level.  I am justified, I tell you!

New Hampshire Neighbor

Our leaf-peeping weekend in New Hampshire was fabulous.  However, until I'm motivated enough to download our photos from the weekend and, more importantly, motivated enough to come up with somewhat interesting commentary, I'll leave you with this interesting New Hampshire-related tidbit:

via Cartophilia

Long Weekend

I slogged to work today carrying a duffle bag, a purse, a knitting bag, a jacket and a large plastic bag filled with a dozen Dunkin' doughnuts.

Alright alright, I'm a bag lady, but I come bearing gifts.

Hot Fresh Fries

If there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that sooner or later people will always find a way to solve a problem.

Sooner or later people will also find a way to solve a non-problem.

Like where to get the fastest french fries.  Because sometimes McDonald's or Wendy's drive through just isn't fast enough.  When that's the case, you'd better run (not walk) to your nearest french fry vending machine.

Two questions:

1.  Where do people come up with these things?

2.  Do you think I should petition Georgetown to install one?

No Quiero Taco Bell

On my walk up to Union Station on Friday I had a narrow escape.

Right after crossing at Mass. and North Capitol I saw a woman reach into the garbage can out of the corner of my eye.  I also heard her say "Hey, you see this?!  You got that?!"

Then she threw a large plastic Taco Bell cup right past my head, narrowly missing my right ear. 

It exploded with a loud thud on the Postal Museum's front steps.  Ice was everywhere.

"Yeah, now you got that!" she screamed (at me, I think?), but I just kept walking.  The safest option, no?