Apropos to nothing, a braindump.
I’m listening to 40s music on a station on Pandora. Did you know you are allowed only 40 hours of music a month before they cut you off?! Anyway, it makes me want to write a NaNo-style novel about some young adult female in wartime. Dunno why. I also have a reoccurring wish to sing 40s jazz in a smoky lounge for a living. Nevermind that I know exactly NO lyrics suitable for such an environment. Nor do I know where such an environment would exist here.
Last night, I looked down from my computer, to the sliding glass door leading out to the balcony, and wondered why the cat’s reflection was clearly in the floor-length window, while there was no cat sitting in front of it. And then it registered that it was because the cat was on the outside. Somewhere in all the druid’s comings and goings, the cat had slipped out to enjoy a short exploration of the balcony. The cold weather drove him back inside a few minutes later. He looked rather happy at having been out of supervision for a time.
I bought a new pad of paper. I call this my “brains”, the place where I scribble ideas, notes, info, phone numbers, websites, randomness that I need to retain for a short time. I could never remember stuff as a child or young adult. As soon as I moved away from my parents’ home, I began keeping an open pad of paper next to my computer to substitute for short-term memory. The most amusing thing is, once I write it down once, I do retain it in my head, making the paper redundant and unnecessary. At least until the next time I have a brainfart I feel I need to remember for whatever goofy reason.
The druid admired the Snuggie® display at the grocery store a few weeks back. A few days later while getting groceries, I saw it again and grabbed a box on my way out. The druid wears it all the time. Backwards. He ties the ties around his neck and wears it as a cloak. Along with the flannel pants I scrounged up at Goodwill the other week, he’s swathed in flannel from the time he gets off work, to when he goes to bed, and sometimes even then. It takes so little to make him happy.
I’m again hindered by money from doing the stuff I want to do. A simple bus ride is out of the question until Friday. Likewise for a single drink at the watering hole within stumbling distance of home. I’ve been trying to amuse myself warbling karaoke songs found on YouTube, and applying for every single job I see on Craigslist, whether or not I think I’m qualified.
I’m not going to count my carburators before they’re manifolded, but I may be vehicularly mobile come Saturday morning, or whenever I can be arsed to get out of bed. Also via CL, I found a cheap, supposedly running car, and decided to pounce, partially because it’s a newer model than the type of car I learned to drive (stick shift, even), and because it’s the right price for what I’m supposedly getting. I’m going to refrain from doing cartwheels until I’m sitting in it on my way home, but yeah. I’ve never named a vehicle, the closest I got was naming my former car Problem Child for the broken drive axle back in the day. But I may with this one. If/when I get it. She’s red, and has four doors. Woot. :)
My dreamer friend’s ready to open his website, his warehouse showroom is ready, he’s got the phone number, the shipments on their way, and I’m really pulling for him. Mostly because if it does, I get something out of it too.
I’d really like to move on my business idea. I really gotta find funding for that.
I’ve decided to post silly things on my Facebook wall, and on Twitter throughout December. I’m trying to do tweets and such in a “12 Days of Christmas” style, with proper iambic pentameter and rhyming and the whole thing. eh, it’s something to do.
