Long day. Not over yet.
Worked all day. There was a silent auction at work and I put my name in on several auctions. Didn't win anything. Not even the office supplies! Not even the Paul Anka tickets. Not even the two sizes too small t-shirt. And don't get me started on the pen and pencil set. My heart is breaking!
After work, I went to the dentist. I have a strong gag reflex and look forward to going to the dentist the way an innocent man looks forward to the electric chair. They found a substance I can take orally that numbs my mouth to the point where I can't feel much of anything. I also can't talk very well under those circumstances, and I drool to boot. I figure I can just buy some adult diapers and complete the picture of early-onset senility. I think they're on sale this week at Pharmasave.
Ah, yes. Pharmasave. The drugstore for communities too small to support a Guardian Drugs.
But I digress.
After the dentist, I dashed downstairs to the bookstore where I got a copy of "The Devil Wears Prada" for Patricia's birthday. That book, coupled with gift certificates for her favourite coffee shop, would be her birthday present. Like I'd ever read that book.
I ran to the restaurant where I'd agreed to take Patricia for her birthday dinner, which was two days late. Not my friggin' fault that she was out of town on Tuesday.
The restaurant was a place where I guess we were the final people in Halifax never to have visited. The Wooden Monkey is a pretty neat place. When the Rolling Stones visited Halifax last year, Keith Richards and Mick Jagger both ate there. The only question I'd have is, did Keith know he was there?
A wonderful meal later, we waddled back to my car where we made our way to a store where I bought some new winter boots.
As I came home this evening, I could see my cat, Newbie, framed in the front window of my house. He is there most evenings when I come home. I am not sure if he is really bored and wants to see what is going on in the world around him; or if he is pissed at me for being so late getting home, delaying his evening meal and upsetting his delicate constitution. Given the way he pounces on my balls every morning as a method of waking me up, and the looks he gives me when I decide to shower before feeding him, I am beginning to suspect that I don't have a mere house cat. Instead, I have some kind of evil cat demon who demands I do his bidding. Or else.
So, I may be out of town for the weekend. Since I don't give out my last name on this blog, or my address, the many criminals reading this blog entry will be stymied, flummoxed, frustrated, foiled, rendered impotent by the knowledge that I will be away from my house, and they can't do anything about it. :-@
I'd prefer to discuss where I'm going, if I indeed go, upon my return. I'll tell you all about it when I get back.
I am gradually spreading the word of this blog to people I know. Please feel free to comment on my posts as much as you wish. Love to get feedback on my posts. While I write this stuff for myself, I do like to know that others are reading it, too.
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