Ready for a rambling post that ventures every which way and doesn't make any sense? Great!

Finally bossman leaves so I can stop pretending I'm not incompetent. Hooray!

I think my brain is turning into rice pudding. (Ben, if you're reading this, I believe this condition is directly attributable to the recent severe lack of rice pudding in my diet. I need an Indian buffet lunch STAT.) Earlier, I found a stack of letters and checks that were supposed to be mailed out almost a month ago. I apparently slipped them under my calendar and never went back for them.

Shit, shit, shit.

I haven't heard from the preschool yet today. I don't know if that means Bob's doing all right today, or if they're just sick of the sound of my voice. Either is possible, I guess.

I realized this morning that I'm sick to death of analyzing him. Every thing he does, everything he says, I dissect it and wonder, "is that ADD? bipolar? mania? just normal almost-5-year-old boy behavior?" I wish I could just ignore most of what he says and does like most parents do, instead of searching for the deeper meaning behind his every move.

I don't have a whole lot going on work-wise today, and I don't want to do anything anyway. It's very hard to type because I have 2 fake nails. Explain? Okay. I have long nails because--well, I'm taking prenatal vitamins (for the folic acid) and they make my nails grow really long and too fast for me to bother filing them down. Besides, I like having long nails, because it's easier to scratch, and to do the other absurd little things I do with them (playing with my shirt hem, running them along my lip). Then you jam one on a car door handle, or your kid jams one while bum-rushing you, and it breaks off. Now you've got 9 long nails and one stump. And that feels really weird when you scratch your leg. After spending a few hours typing that way, your stump is almost sore. Then you lose another nail over the weekend and decide 2 stumps is just too much, so you glue on a couple of fake nails. But fake nails feel almost as weird as stumps.

There's no end to either my vanity or insanity.

I broke down and bought a pair of reading glasses last night. The book before last ("Julie/Julia") was selected, unknowingly, from the "Large Print" section of the library, and man, did I get used to the lack of eyestrain. The last book was not "Large Print," and I often thought I was going crosseyed after a while. The reading glasses help me see the small print. They do not, however, improve the current book, so I think a return trip to the library is in order.

I found The Perfect Shoes last night to go with The Perfect Dress. On ebay. And I ordered them, but then I couldn't remember my damn paypal login. I think I had the password right, but was using the wrong email address. I finally said "fuck it" and created a new paypal account. Which I couldn't use with my debit card because said debit card is already connected with the account whose login escapes me. DAMMIT. So I used one of the credit cards I'm trying to pay off. Ugh. It was only a $15 charge, but still. FUCK YOU, PAYPAL. YOU SUCK.

I just hope the shoes come before Saturday. They're way cute.

And the Burning Question of the Day: Why, Why, WHY did Flav keep that psychobitch New York for another damn week? (I know, the better question is why would any woman compete for a chance to be swallowed whole by an old washed-up former rapper with 9 million kids, but that one may never be answered...)