[Pause while I contemplate the irony of writing in my ONLINE journal about giving a paper journal to someone as a gift.]
We went out for Italian food, which was a wonderful treat, since Italian is perhaps my favorite type of food but we don't have it often because it is so dairy intensive (and Shannon tries to avoid dairy). I really really wanted to order their blackened prime rib (this isn't a strictly Italian-only restaurant), because I've had it before and it's fabulous, but it's one of the most expensive things on the menu, so I felt too self-conscious and ordered ravioli instead. The ravioli was very good.
They brought us gifts from Hawaii, which was very sweet of them. Shannon's dad enjoyed the company of our cats, as always, because they are so social and friendly (unlike the in-laws' cats, who are far less cuddly). The cats turned on the charm and were almost unbearably cute. Only those of us who live with them know what little demons they really are, what with the yowling in the night and other such tribulations, not to mention all the very bad habits they've learned from Shannon (such as knocking pens, coasters, dice, or other random stuff off the table, after which Shannon always pets them and says, "Good kitty!").
But hell. Even when they're being evil they're still cute.
Iomega has given me a bunch of things to try to experiment with getting the new CD burner working. I didn't have time to deal with it today (busy preparing for the in-laws), but I'll give it a go tomorrow. Their primary thought seems to be that there's a problem with the power supply. Anyway, tomorrow I shall engage in hardware rassling, one of my least favorite pastimes. Let's just hope I don't break something.
I bought a pumice stone today and used it on my heels. I perceive no difference. Maybe I'm doing it wrong. Yes, yes, I am unable to use even the simplest of tools effectively. I mean, it's a fucking ROCK -- you'd think I wouldn't be able to mess that one up, eh? Perhaps the magic of the pumice stone is just very subtle. Or perhaps I am meant to rub it on my heels for an hour, instead of a minute or two. Perhaps one must employ the pumice stone all day long to see truly effective results. I could have little pumice-stone inserts made for my shoes, and then I could just walk around and pumicify my heels at the same time. Well, except that I mostly don't wear shoes, which sort of caused the problem in the first place.
But my heels are much better already, anyway. Now I just have the normal calluses that I've always had, plus the deep scarring on the balls of my feet from where the skin cracked and I ignored it. I'm very good at looking away and whistling when something goes wrong with my body. I am IgnoroGirl. But then I'm very capable of whipping around in a millisecond to become ObsessoGirl, doing nothing but worrying about my heels (or my knees or my arms or whatever) all day long. I have an On/Off switch, but I'm not quite sure how to work it ... or (better yet) how to replace it with a dimmer switch. I only know On and Off.
Today and yesterday, Shannon and I tidied the living room in anticipation of the in-laws' visit. Hence, my office is now filled with all kinds of piles of crap that were previously in the living room. I feel all claustrophobic. Piles everywhere! Junk that needs to be dealt with! Things that should be put away! A comatose CD burner that cries out for medical attention. (Hmm. Except that comatose people don't usually cry out. Bad metaphor.)
I feel like there are a gazillion things that need to be done RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND.
But all I want to do is go downstairs and watch something brainless on TV.
Mmmm. Brainless. I'll deal with everything tomorrow. Because tomorrow IS another day.