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Wednesday, Mar. 03, 2004 / 1:32 p.m. ~But No Time To Proofread This Entry Now~ First, and yes, foremost, I must gravely apologize for the typo in yesterday's entry. And this after I proofread. Sometimes I proofread two and three times and still I miss the typos. Oy, the typos. I have submitted a correction and all shall be well from henceforth, or hence forth, or herewith, or whatever. Ah, yes, it is 'supposed' to be in the upper 70s today. This happens. Usually it happens in January and I complain then, so it's a bit late, but I still reserve the right to complain. Because, you see, it's not the type of weather that's nice and sunny and blue sky-y, au contraire, it's threatening, with those thinly veiled type threats again, to rain, and since I'm only home for lunch it's not like I can throw open windows and prop fans in them to keep this place lovely. Oh no, windows must remain sealed for later. As it is, thusly and such, I had a fitful sleep, increased body temp mixed with too warm sleeping conditions, and no, there is no ceiling fixture to which to attach a ceiling type fan, never has been, which has always sort of sucked royally, but times like this, times when the heat is not on, nor the a/c, and I simply long for air FLOW, what's a person to do? Remove the down comforter? Sleep nude? Sleep nude with no covers at all? There must be a way out of this. Oh, that's a line from another Edie Brickell song, "There's a way out... of... this..." Sometimes, and isn't everything lately 'sometimes'?, everything reminds me of something else. Sometimes, really, just some times, I'm sitting in my cubicle at work and a fragment of a scent of a memory pops into my subconcious, floats up to the conscious portion, and suddenly I'm in a dream I had two nights ago, or I'm in the car on the way to the lake in the Summer of '79. Is it the mercury poisoned tuna fish-induced Alzheimer's-like symptoms? Heaven help me. Oh, I got good SPAM today, a virus attachment from a local charity - one of those 'your account is wonky so please click right here, go ahead, it won't hurt a bit... there... that's it, see, we need you to resign your account info, won't take but a moment of your day...' emails, the kind with the attachment attached. I am smarter than that, but I want to let them know their email list is corrupted now. Ah, they'll figure it out. The other SPAM was telling me about GOD and how I'll go to hell if I don't find god, and then there was a grouping of words with no cohesive structure, no rhyme nor reason to them in fact. Funny stuff. First thing this morning I sat in my cubicle lotioning my ankle tattoos, on account of today I'm wearing my Birkenstock sandals and my too short khaki pants. Didn't want dry tattoos to show. Then I did some data entry, promoted people who work in the technical field, any number of fields with technicals in them, and made sure that they now make an awful lot of money. Sinful amounts, the lot of them, almost all from Asia, like India, Pakistan, etc. No stereotypes, I read their names. These people are earning WAY too much money. I think it's like reverse trade. Only not. This is the American dream. Emigrate to America, train, work, go to school, train some more, and you too can make $55,000 and more per year. I must go back to my measly job now, earning far less, less than half perhaps. Uck and ick. It's hot again. But I have sandals now, and light, light cotton, and the a/c at work is crankin'! Cost of the War in Iraq
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