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Sunday night.
Dec. 21st, 2003 09:10 pmHow can it be almost Christmas already? It seems like it was spring yesterday. I guess time flies when you're having fun or peddling produce, and I've had both of those things to keep me occupied this year.
Hehe, my dad is funny. He's utterly unable to hang up the phone himself if he can help it at all. He usually calls me, says whatever it is he wants to say, then he'll say, "your mom wants to talk to you." Then I talk to Mom, who didn't really want to talk to me at all. Tonight he said that I should talk to Whitley about this song he was calling about (she wanted the lyrics of a song) and he wasn't the least bit put off by the fact that she was in the bathroom. He made her pick up anyway, which I think embarrassed her. *giggle*
We're going shopping again tomorrow, and with any luck at all, I'll be able to finish buying presents. I have four more people on the list, and I might get something else for M if I run across it. I shouldn't, really, but I really enjoy buying him stuff. He's easy. I, apparently, am hard. I don't really think so but I guess I can understand what they mean.
I thought I had stuff to say but as it turns out, I don't. I've had a headache this evening, and it's pounding away dully at the back of my eyes. I can't think when it does that. It makes me want to rip them out of my head and throw them across the room, where they will thud against the door and roll to the floor. Sticky. I don't think my eyes would actually be sticky. They're probably just damp, like everyone else's, so they would hit the door and just fall, but for some reason, I have a picture in my head of them rolling to the floor slowly. This is, of course, utterly ridiculous because if my eyes were rolling down the door, I would clearly not be able to see it, given the whereabouts of my viewing apparati. I used to have a sticky gooey toy thing that did that, although now that I think of it, it wasn't really in the shape of an eyeball at all. Oh, nevermind.
Hehe, my dad is funny. He's utterly unable to hang up the phone himself if he can help it at all. He usually calls me, says whatever it is he wants to say, then he'll say, "your mom wants to talk to you." Then I talk to Mom, who didn't really want to talk to me at all. Tonight he said that I should talk to Whitley about this song he was calling about (she wanted the lyrics of a song) and he wasn't the least bit put off by the fact that she was in the bathroom. He made her pick up anyway, which I think embarrassed her. *giggle*
We're going shopping again tomorrow, and with any luck at all, I'll be able to finish buying presents. I have four more people on the list, and I might get something else for M if I run across it. I shouldn't, really, but I really enjoy buying him stuff. He's easy. I, apparently, am hard. I don't really think so but I guess I can understand what they mean.
I thought I had stuff to say but as it turns out, I don't. I've had a headache this evening, and it's pounding away dully at the back of my eyes. I can't think when it does that. It makes me want to rip them out of my head and throw them across the room, where they will thud against the door and roll to the floor. Sticky. I don't think my eyes would actually be sticky. They're probably just damp, like everyone else's, so they would hit the door and just fall, but for some reason, I have a picture in my head of them rolling to the floor slowly. This is, of course, utterly ridiculous because if my eyes were rolling down the door, I would clearly not be able to see it, given the whereabouts of my viewing apparati. I used to have a sticky gooey toy thing that did that, although now that I think of it, it wasn't really in the shape of an eyeball at all. Oh, nevermind.
