Another Day with One Foot in Unreality

I’m really starting to like the tags (or labels as they call them) on Blogger’s beta. I want to go back to my first post in 2004 and work my way back to the future so I can put tags on everything. That way I can look up all the bits of odd things I’ve posted about in the past, without a lot of useless backtracking or guessing of dates. I almost never guess the date right.

Today I am enjoying time alone. It is nice to have time alone when you are in a big house with all the things you like: Internet, radio (old show tunes today), TV (off so far), cookie dough (I have to make myself stop eating the chocolate icebox cookies I made) and lasagna. Lots of other things too, like books to read. I’ve just been sitting here on my butt in front of the computer most of the day. I could have been doing a lot of other more important thiings. I should have already hemmed up the new black jeans we bought for Zack. I should have baked those cookies instead of slicing off just a bit more frozen dough all day. I should have dumped out my cold coffee, the new cream I bought isn’t new enough cause it is all mucky and glucky (spoiled or halfway spoiled). I should have bagged up clothes for laundry. I should have read through the stack of old magazines I don’t want to haul to the new apartment but don’t want to throw away unread either. I should have done some writing, at the very least I could have updated the BW column.

But I haven’t done anything very practical today. Just goofing around on the Internet. Enjoying having the run of a big house to myself. No one to tell me what I should be doing or thinking. It’s almost like having a life of my own. Too bad it’s one leg in unreality. It will be good to be working again and having one of those pay cheque things. Even if I do end up being a cashier again. It doesn’t mean I’m frozen in place there.

I might even meet some charming man who likes women with plenty-o-curves and a tendency to either talk too much or not enough. Oh well, never fear, I an always continue just talking to myself. I will be the old woman talking to her dust bunnies. (I’m allergic to cats and don’t fancy changing cat poop in a pan).

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