i’m sure you’d love some distractions -

So I’ll complain a little bit. Shortly after we moved, the fish tank incurred a knick in its seal – possibly the result of a somewhat maniacal cleaning spree, we can never be sure. The knick was at the top of the tank, so was technically only a problem if the water level was too high. Except, when I change the tank, I like to fill the water as high as possible, plus an inch, so the water takes longer to evaporate, and the filter won’t annoy me for approximately 2 or more weeks, warranting another water change. It’s all about my laziness here, let’s note. So without being able to fill the tank to near overflow, the frequency of filter annoyance increased.

We were at the point of Tank Needs a Water Change once again. I cursed out the obnoxious sound of falling water a bit yesterday evening, and pulled the plug on the filter for a few hours of silence. Then I noticed the tank was leaking again. What the what? Like a big puddle. And the table wood – granted, cheapo composite like everything is made from these days – is now warped. And where exactly was the leak coming from. It’s still leaking from the top? Yes, yes it is. The water line is maybe 3 inches below said leak, and yet it magically continues to draw water up to create a continuous dribble-drabble down the side. I keep thinking of inexplicable weeping Virgin Mary statues, but maybe that has nothing to do with anything. I’m sure it doesn’t.

At approximately 11:30 p.m. I decided to free the fish. We need a new tank. I mean, we could fix the seal, maybe, but I don’t trust this tank overall. It’s on the decline. The table wood is warped. And secretly, I’m not even sure I want fish anymore. (Shhh.) And the fish-freeing is, granted, SO much easier than during our move, when I had the Death Flu, no tank lights and only a colander in which to catch the fish. Ooo, and hey – this time, I could even keep the bucket warm with the heater.

#fail

I murdered 6 fish last night, m. With the heater. More might die. I am a killer of fishes. I mean, beyond the kind that we eat. I am a killer of pet fishes. It’s much worse. And aren’t a pisces? Isn’t this my sign? Looking at their sad, pale and swollen bodies floating in the commode this morning, I felt sure this was punishment for secretly wishing we didn’t have fish anymore. Or for being stupid. Whichever. Bad fish karma regardless.

I’m afraid to look in the bucket again. I don’t want to deal with the nasty wasteland of a tank or the rotting table. Not to mention, do I want to invest more money in yet another tank whose water will have to be changed and which will almost definitely incur that vexing green sludge issue from the wasteland tank? Because I am a murderer of fish.

Who knew my complaining would go on so long. And I was also going to tell you how we’ve become tick bait. And I haven’t even touched on the Bible bars and the cure-all tonic at our Amish Market. Next time, friend. Next time.

love to you -

penelope, fish killer

Pencomplaint,

This was not the day to be stranded at home as the power is going to go off in an hour or so. (mom took the car) And my phone is flipping out and i'm getting messages from my hotmail. Maybe that's a good thing. I don't know. But chime-chime-chime as i'm trying to sleep...? eh. Yesterday I maxed out my CC trying to buy a bathing suit from target just so I could have an alternate, though as I looked at it later its almost too fancy for its cheap price. And am I going to swim laps in that? Which doesn't matter anyway bcs the pool is closed until the Friday and the other pool that I love in Pas is closed until mid-june. Whatthehell. Obviously I need to schedule in a beach trip. Not that I can afford the gas but whatever I have like 3 new beach dresses, which despite my effort at some modesty still spill a little bit comparatively speaking, and they're totally cute. But anyway I had my debit card with me and I also bought some fancy dental floss. I went mostly undaunted after that to yoga where I felt productive, and then met amber at sharkeys. Though I felt pukish after lunch and slightly like I'm fighting something off toward bedtime. Which may explain why I find myself feeling like a failure. Non-specified. Or that vague apprehension like i've forgotten something. Roving anxiety. My finished book, and oh! after 2 1/2 yrs juryduty found me again. I'm wondering if i want to make it my job. Get a long trial if I can? Eh. Beats trying to rehab a resume geared solely to a career in an industry I can't become employed in. Which looking around at my home group- 1/2 of us are unemployed or hate their jobs and in various degrees of disgruntled so. At least i'm not alone.

I need to take a shower but that's currently impossible and brush my teeth but I don't feel like it. I think maybe after I plant all the baby plants I'll shower outside. It's more possible than it would seem like doing other things outside, which really I don't mind doing because I'm that sort of person. As a side note the only worry i have about the bathroom is the shittylooking tub that we're keeping and i'm worried that the vanity which I think we're also keeping needs some massive overhaul before it looks anywhere decent... oh and the 80's industrial window my parents are refusing to replace. I know all of these things will look like crap against shiny new tile and a sparkly new mirror and more bathroom lighting, is all I'm saying. And it just means that I have to stare at something when i go in there and huff and think SOMEDAY. And by that I mean some mythical day when I have money? or a husband? or what? to be able to replace a shittywindow and buy a new vanity. ? Never. Anyway.

I'm a tad cranky. And everytime I sigh the muscles around my ribs hurt because of yoga. Whatever I'll sign off. I'm going to start reading our book again and I'll pick another alternate so i don't get too far ahead. What with the no power coming my way in a minute. Sure I could meditate but thats only for an hour and I'm boycotting that right now. I did however give myself a really kick ass looking pedicure and manicure. And there's a chance my benefits might get extended again. So there's that. And tanning. And I don't know what else. Oh and yah, what a weird season finale for the office. I almost liked that there was no really big cliff hanger. House was good though it seemed a bit rushed. Maybe I'll bump up my netflix to 2 at a time now. Though I only have 30 things on my que... so then what? Nevermind.

xo,
m.

why exactly wearing glasses = a giant pain

If you wear glasses all the time and are used to it, it’s a different story. If you’ve been wearing contacts pretty much all day, every day since you were in the 8th grade up through until your 30’s, having to wear glasses all of a sudden, all the time, is not cool.

It’s not the style. The last time I had pinkeye, in 2001, it became a terrible infection precisely because I was so resistant to wearing glasses, resulting in at least 4 weeks of misery, and so from then on, I made sure to have a pair of glasses that were cool, to address the vanity situation, the whole feeling of “I am my former geeky 6th-grader self.” So I’ve got cool glasses. I don’t feel *totally* me in them, but they work. I haven’t really given it too much thought, venturing out in public the past few days.

But here are the issues:

• First and foremost, a ginormous headache. Medicine takes the edge off, but it still nags all day.
• The rain. And of course it is pouring. Drips and drops all over my lenses. Highly inconvenient.
• The sun. What exactly am I supposed to do about shades? Also, it just feels brighter and more blinding in general.
• Sight. It’s not the same. I can’t, as Andria mentioned in an email, see the leaves on the trees. And, looking over and under the frames, it’s all a blur. Contacts are simply a more logical and comprehensive solution to the problem of bad sight.
• The children do not respect glasses. At least, the one and a half year old child does not. He’ll head-butt you anyway, do you really want to worry about whether your glasses will break? No.
• Driving. Feels just slightly trippy, slightly off. Not quite *dangerous,* but still.
• Reading. With aforementioned headaches, I’m not into it at the moment.
• Dry eyes. All that air swirling around on my eyeballs. Why.
• Waiting. I just feel like, until I can wear contacts again, a lot of life is on hold. Ridiculous, perhaps, but true. It’s the headache, the dry eyes, the overall off-ness.

Whatever. I’m putting those suckers back in by the weekend.

penelope wants to know

• Why a “simple” trip to the doctor for pinkeye drops resulted in a tetanus shot, blood work, and a random diagnosis of ringworm. Also: 2 hours of time lost and 2 very cranky children.
• Why a “simple” call-in prescription from the pediatrician to the pharmacy for pinkeye drops resulted in a near $80 charge for a very tiny bottle to treat a fairly mild infection. My drops cost $10. And though we avoided the trip to the pediatrician, phone calls and a second trip to the pharmacy tomorrow will be added to the to-do list. Complicated!
• Why wearing glasses instead of contacts is not simple. It results in everything feeling slightly off: vision, outfit, self. And also, a very giant headache.

Words, Words, Words

Pen has admonished me lately for my complete and utter silence. And I can only blame all this traveling and going here and there that it doesn't seem like I've been jobless as much as unsettled, and so lacking traction have I been that in my freetime I watch copious amounts of Netflix and pick up projects that have been on my todo list for over a year instead of ones I should be doing-right-this-minute. One of them is my quilt which is now pieced together and waiting for the next phase. The 2nd is this masterpiece above. Selected emails dating from 2001 to the present day 2009. It's never been seen by anyone before, but I take satisfaction in knowing that it's on a shelf in my closet, now uptodate and that I've thought very heavily about who out of my friends could physically and mentally bear reading so much of me. Or that in all those words do any of them contain complaints about said friends? Possibly. And that posthumously they would chose to not hate me for said rash words and know how much I love them. But I digress- really this is just standing proof that the letter isn't dead or the art of conversation... it's alive and well in my hotmail folder and in the dark folds of my heart (closet). And now I can go back to procrastinating about other more or less important things.

Adios for now.
M.