PlazaJen: Passion Knit

I'm not having a great week. Or month, really. It's gotten to the point that my jaw feels like it's wired shut & I'm fighting it subconsciously. The crazy-ass neighbor across the street has decided, after 3 years, to start screaming at me about our dogs out of fear her precious feral cats she feeds (but does not take inside, collar, or immunize) might get hurt when Polly bolts to chase one of her devil cats. It's like Harriet, v.2.0. I can't drive by her house now without subtley flipping her off. (At least I'm not leaning out the window & screaming.)

Then, I'm in the limbo place, as I wait for my car dealer dude to find me exactly the vehicle I want. (I have the model picked out, I just want low miles, adjustable pedals, uh, leather, ok, fine, my list of needs & wants are not short - are you surprised?) However, even though it has been only two weeks, I am ever impatient and just want to get the deal DONE. I want to sell my dad's truck, get my new-ish car, and my dealer-dude doesn't call to update me, instead I have to call him. Of course, a more relaxed, laid-back individual would take this as an indication that it's taking some time and to just CHILL THE FUCK OUT. Well, I drove behind an individual like that yesterday, and I gave her bitch-ass the hairy eyeball when I finally passed her 20 mph ass. I don't work in that laid-back way and I need to have my base touched. TOUCH MY BASE. Don't take it naughty. I just mean that even if there's no information, telling me that? Tells me "you're working on it", not "ignoring it until your bitch ass calls me again".

It's always a weird time of year, the transition between seasons. We're in the 60's one morning, but headed for 90 by the end of the week, and then it will drop off again and we'll have a frost threat before we know it. What's the right clothing combination, what shoes, will I be sweaty at lunch, will I have to run the air in my car, how fucked up will construction be AGAIN. Work ebbs and flows and I'm reminded of how the highs in this business are balanced out by the lows. My craft room is still a mess, and I have things that need to be sewn. People who don't want to be my friend should just stop pretending. My mother's birthday is coming and I want to ignore her, except the high road always beckons, and I begrudgingly trudge it. I'm trying to eat less but sometimes I get so cranky I want to take a cheesecake and lie down in the street. Yes, the street in front of my office that takes a miracle, act of God or Mother Teresa to allow me to merge at night because the fucking Bob Mahal construction has made it painfully difficult to navigate, and add to it this week's joy: road repaving. I keep meaning to exercise and all I do is think about doing it. I feel like I have a million mosquito bites and they all want to be scratched, torn at, and yet I know that bathing in calamine lotion and letting them heal is the only right solution. I guess you could call this "cranky". That's Captain Cranky to you, you whack bitch who loves parrots and can't drive. I got yer parrot right HERE.

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRR.