![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
verbicideI have no idea what made me think I could handle a 9:30PM movie again on a Friday night. Damn SIFF. No idea how I'm going to stay awake. Jeanne is going to have to pinch me every time I start to snore.
Friday nights are for coming home, ordering in, and curling up on the couch.
But the movie sounds interesting, so what the hell.
I can't decide what I should do in the intervening hours after work. I could:
- grocery shop and run home to put away
- run to Swansen's for a better container, and some more dirt from Fred Meyer (5 more plants to pot...ack)
- come home and take a nap
Also, somewhere in there I should figure out dinner.
Man, TGI-motherfuckin'-F. This whole week has been BLAH. Every morning has required a colossal effort to get up, get dressed, and go to work. I just don't want to go. It's ridiculous. Maybe it's because I've been testing all week. It's mind-numbing. Also, limited Jeff-exposure, as he's been at a conference for the majority of the week. In desperation, I bellowed at him to let me drive him to his conference dinner last night. Jeff's dinner was at the Museum of Flight, out somewhere. And I first nagged him into letting me drive him to the convention center (which had a shuttle to the museum), but once we got to talking, I demanded he let me drive him to the museum, so we could have some freaking hang-out time together. And it was kind of fun. Downtown traffic sucked, but so what. We took a couple of wrong turns (during which Jeff nearly exploded from guilt, seemingly unaware of my chirpy delight at just having him cornered in the car, from which he could not escape--muhahaha!). Once we hit Aurora, we were golden. And despite all of his fears, my drive back home took 5 seconds, because we'd avoided the bleak horror that is I-5 at rush hour.
In random other news, this grilled chicken recipe from epicurious is spectacular, and pretty easy: chicken with tangerine, honey, and chipotle glaze. So damn gooooood. I can't wait to make it again.
But now, I have to go to work. Feh.
Friday nights are for coming home, ordering in, and curling up on the couch.
But the movie sounds interesting, so what the hell.
I can't decide what I should do in the intervening hours after work. I could:
- grocery shop and run home to put away
- run to Swansen's for a better container, and some more dirt from Fred Meyer (5 more plants to pot...ack)
- come home and take a nap
Also, somewhere in there I should figure out dinner.
Man, TGI-motherfuckin'-F. This whole week has been BLAH. Every morning has required a colossal effort to get up, get dressed, and go to work. I just don't want to go. It's ridiculous. Maybe it's because I've been testing all week. It's mind-numbing. Also, limited Jeff-exposure, as he's been at a conference for the majority of the week. In desperation, I bellowed at him to let me drive him to his conference dinner last night. Jeff's dinner was at the Museum of Flight, out somewhere. And I first nagged him into letting me drive him to the convention center (which had a shuttle to the museum), but once we got to talking, I demanded he let me drive him to the museum, so we could have some freaking hang-out time together. And it was kind of fun. Downtown traffic sucked, but so what. We took a couple of wrong turns (during which Jeff nearly exploded from guilt, seemingly unaware of my chirpy delight at just having him cornered in the car, from which he could not escape--muhahaha!). Once we hit Aurora, we were golden. And despite all of his fears, my drive back home took 5 seconds, because we'd avoided the bleak horror that is I-5 at rush hour.
In random other news, this grilled chicken recipe from epicurious is spectacular, and pretty easy: chicken with tangerine, honey, and chipotle glaze. So damn gooooood. I can't wait to make it again.
But now, I have to go to work. Feh.
