I ate a whole box of macaroni and cheese for dinner today! I haven't been able to do that since the days of undergrad. Granted, that wasn't that long ago, but I still feel quite the sense of accomplishment. Should I be eating entire boxes of bright orange noodles by myself? Probably not, but it hasn't killed me yet.
The Christmas decorations are now up in my apartment. I've got the tassles, the few ornaments, the Snoopy on his doghouse, and some candles. When I go visit my folks this weekend, I am going to bring back the little Christmas tree, too, so that will be exciting.
In other, other news, I have mostly effectively insulated one of my draft windows. Hopefully this will help reduce my heating bill. I need to do three more of the windows at least, but it is quite the hullaballoo for me. First, I need to deal with the double sided adhesive. Have you seen me with glue or tape? It almost always sticks to me or ties me up rather than do what I want it to. Then there's the matter of taking the large sheets of plastic and cutting them to the size of the window. Anything bigger than me, and I can't handle it. Plus my lack of fine motor skills makes it hard to cut a straight line. Then, I need to attach that plastic to the double-sided adhesive inside the window, and those of you that know me well know that I can't keep my arms above my head that well. Finally, I have to use the hair dryer to make the plastic shrink and stay. It took me way too long to do just that one window. Maybe I'll do another window tomorrow night, and another on Wednesday. The house will be insulated by the end of December, I'm sure.
Also, last night I had a dream that I knocked out all my front teeth and broke my hip. In this condition, I still had to keep an eye on one of my fourth grade students who isn't allowed to be in the hallway by himself. Then I realized that not only was all of this going on, but I was only 12 years old and in a seaside town that had only coffee shops and bookstores that had coffee inside. I had to hobble and limp from coffee shop to coffee shop, trying to hold the bloody spit in my mouth while coaxing my student to come with me. He kept trying to wander off, and with the broken hips and blood loss, I wasn't really moving that fast. Anyway, I knew I needed a doctor, so I kept going into each of these coffee shops and bookstores looking for a doctor or a phone I could use to call a doctor. In each store I ran into one of my male high school teachers, and they always asked about how I was doing. They never commented on how awful I looked. None of them had phones, either. I ended up taking that student down to the water to feed the ducks. I had a mocha in my hand, but I couldn't drink it.....The end.
So I guess my subconscious is trying to tell me I feel beat up? Your psychoanalysis of my dream is welcomed and will of course be taken seriously.
You should take my tea survey. Now.
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