outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- well, it's like the goat said to my ankle, \"we can't all shoot mariachi bands at the spark\" Oh dear, I haven't updated in over ten thousand days, according to my buddy list. Someone might get to thinking I'm dead. I'm not dead, just been feeling withdrawn and reflective and not-bloody-much-like-sharing-with-others lately. Yes, it is largely PMS. It's also largely "what do I have to say to these people that won't make me feel like a hamster in a wheel." Yes, largely PMS. Let's just get to the things that have been going on, for good measure and good recordership. What has been going on, geez. My grandfather's operation...it went, I suppose, as well as can be expected, if you consider that if he hadn't had it approximately right when he did (basically just by the fortuitous urging of his doctor), he would have died. Up and had a heart attack, had a stroke, and died. So although he did have to have this intrusive surgery, and did end up having a stroke afterward, and did lose the capacity to speak for at least a while...the alternative is dire enough that we can be thankful for this. Other than this, and the GRE looming ahead for this Saturday, there isn't much going on. I've squared away with Joy (my boss) the details of my departure from this realm: in six weeks and three days I'll be done with this place. It's very strange, because every weekend feels like a countdown. It makes the Mondays, already very laid-back and wholesome days (other than the treacherous cab rides), that much more cheerful and spoonful-of-sugary. It looks like I'll be moving out of my apartment starting on the 20th of December. Note to self: get CDs back from anna before then. :) Miss, I do sincerely hope we can implement Monsters Inc. night well before I leave Cambridge. Ah, me. Should I maybe throw a party before I leave? I don't know, I'm totally not into the idea of it right now (could be the PMS though). But I do want to say a proper goodbye and I'll miss you to my Boston compadres; Spooky and Plastron and Bolo and Charlotte and of course Anna...blerg, let me think about this later when it seems like less of a ridiculous endeavor. If it ever does. *imagines one sister, five diarylanders, and three "others" sardined into shoebox of apartment with one stressed pre-Christmas Jessie running around ruining the food* All right, so that probably won't happen. Maybe we can just appoint a special time, synchronize our watches, and think happy thoughts about each other. Oh yes. I'm burning with the affection of a thousand suns. Ah :) A letter from Katie. I guess there can afford to be some light in this day, even though it's only five thirty and it's been the dead of night for an hour now. Let's be positive! This is day four of my weekend. The weekend being, for the sake of nothing but my own whim, the parcel of days that end with Rob in my bed. Since I get him for five out of seven nights, I have a five-day weekend. Alas, the weekend ends tomorrow, but it'll pick up again two days later, so I really can't complain. It's astounding how fast the time is going by -- look, it's already November, and just a minute ago it was spring -- but when your weekend is five days long, it's no wonder. There's work to be done, dag nabbit! I should skeedoodle. 4:52 p.m. - 2002-11-04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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