post random thoughts

My hair looks like Gwen’s from Torchwood. In fact, I’m now one tooth-gap away from being able to dress up as her for Halloween.

_{Okay, and I have smaller…everything.}

I feel cool, in a very geeky way.

_{I miss my hair, though. The new style is cute, but this morning, I could almost sit on the ends of my hair. ::sigh:: It will grow back. In about a year…}

wart-like thing on my finger. Small…barely bigger than a pencil lead. (Regular, not mechanical.) I’ve never had one of these before. And really, it wouldn’t bother me except it’s on the outside edge of the first joint on my right-hand index finger. So it gets bumped constantly.

Today, I went to the dermatologist to have it removed. He doused it with liquid nitrogen (which friggin’ hurt!) and sent me on my merry way.

It still hurts.

And the bump’s still there.

Is it going to slough off, maybe? Or melt, or something?

And when does it stop hurting? ‘Cause typing is murder…

so “random thoughts” it is.

More like “random experiments with allergies,” really.

I determined, after many frustrating experiments with every cleansing product I use, that I’m allergic to fabric softener. It gives me a rash on my belly. An itchy, painful rash that I dealt with for close to 5 years.

I switched to dryer balls, and the rash went away. Magic! My clothes are plenty soft without the softener, and I could deal with a little static.

This winter, though, the static’s getting to me. Not sure if the air’s been unusually dry or what. I have to spray a couple of sweaters with wrinkle releaser to keep them from turning my hair into a static-charged sheet o’frizz (it kinda-sorta helps, but the perfume in it sets my sinuses off). My sheets are so electified, I could probably power a small home appliance with them.

So I’m trying something new. I put one tablespoon of fabric softener in with my sheets. If they don’t make me itch, I’ll try putting a tiny bit in with the electrified sweaters. Here’s hoping.

_{I’m in a bitchy mood, and if I don’t get this out somewhere safe, I’m going to say it to someone.}

_{Though maybe it needs saying.}

Don’t want my advice? Don’t take it.

Don’t want my help? Same thing.

I am trying to be nice, for god’s sake. Helpful. Y’know, do unto others and all that. But if you’re going to bite my head off every time I try, then I’m going to quit trying.

It goes both ways. If all I get is grief for trying to help, don’t think I’ll welcome you telling me how to live my life. I notice you don’t offer help me unless I grovel, or unless it’s absolutely no imposition whatsoever, so I’m not sure why I’m bending over backwards to help you.

And people wonder why I’m so misanthropic.

_{Not directed at any one person. But true of enough of them to make me really crabby. And now I get to go help one of them shop for another one of them – at the mall, of all places. Perhaps I have a masochistic streak…}

Brought to mind by the fact that I’m currently wearing a pair of men’s flannel pajama bottoms.

_{They’re mine. I’m not tall, but I am oddly proportioned; women’s pj pants are often too short for me. Men’s pants, on the other hand, are way too large in every dimension but length. I’m a creature of comfort; I typically opt for ginormous bubble butt over cold ankles.}

I own several pairs, in fact. Some have a button on the fly, and some do not. My question is, why don’t they put buttons on all of them? (This goes for boxers, too; I don’t own any of those, however.) I mean, that’s a pretty big hole; doesn’t it get drafty?

Is there a benefit to not having a button? Or are the manufacturers of the buttonless ones just being cheap?

_{Okay, that was several questions.}

Got the idea to snag some neat (preferably free) stock art pics, print and frame them, and hang them in my kitchen. Started out looking for neat black-and-white photos…mostly what I found were trees. They’re nice, of course – I’m a sucker for black and white nature photography – but not quite what I wanted. Flowers…same thing. Finally I realized that I’m not just looking for pretty pictures (the search, incidentally, has expanded to “something that will look nice somewhere in my house”); I want pictures that make a statement about me. My interests, my values, the things I want people to feel when they enter my home.

That’s where I get stuck. It’s kind of hard to quantify some of these things.

When I was in preschool, our Thanksgiving project was to select three photos of things we were thankful for. The teachers had thoughtfully cut out a bunch of pictures for us – all we had to do was pick three. Mom was amused, though puzzled, by my selections: an apple, a baby, and…well, I forget the third one. Not things you’d expect a 4-year-old to be thankful for. Years later, she told me the story, thinking I’d have forgotten all about it. (It’s a bit fuzzy, but I do remember.) I explained to her that nothing I was thankful for was represented in that stack, so I just picked pictures of things I liked.

Maybe I’m overthinking these pictures. Maybe I should just pick some I like.

Not fun plans, mind you, but I was gonna get stuff done. Laundry, a little cleaning, holiday card design, and a handful of other things that have gone neglected.

Yeah. Says the girl who had oatmeal for dinner because she was too tired to cook.

I think I’ll watch a little Primeval and make it an early night.

?

Even if you’re not into Doctor Who, have never heard of Doctor Who, or don’t like cake, you gotta admit this is cool:

Birth of a 50-lb Tardis cake.

::end geeking::

My Last Words was not really the best episode for me to watch tonight.

At least I stocked up on Kleenex.