I got home from work last night after 7 o’clock – it had been a long day.

Me: (in pajamas within 3 minutes of walking in the door, flops on the couch)

John: I’m grilling that steak – come outside and sit with me.

Me: *GROAN*

John: Come on, we can sit in our chairs on the patio – it’s nice out.

Me: *DOUBLE GROAN*

John: Come on! You can drink wine…

Me: (perks a bit) …will you pour it for me?

John: (30 seconds later, brings a LARGE tumbler of wine as I’ve remained totally motionless on the couch)

Me: I love you so much right now.

Oh, yeah. This thing exists.

Well!

Y'all.
It has been a long and busy and rough couple of weeks. I am typing this from a hotel room in Mountain View, California, where I am sitting in my underwear eating leftover tiramisu and trying valiantly to muster the motivation to do Even More Tedious Work after spending about 12 hours a day for the past three days trying to Get Months Worth Of Shit Done. It turns out that working with software developers is like herding cats - I keep trying to get them together to talk about stuff, and they keep scurrying back to their cubicles to bury their head in code. No! Come HERE! STAY! Good boy. (There you go, a cat/mouse/dog analogy all in one.)

I am not making sense. My brain is fried. I am ready to go home.
One of the hardest things has been being away from John. I really like that dude. He is good for The Sex, and also he gets my jokes.

From: Gin
To: John
Sent: Thursday April 15, 2010 18:51
Subject: Give me credit

For showing some restraint. In one of a gajillion telecons this week, someone talked about a particular process being “tricky”. It was ALL I COULD DO to keep from interjecting, “You know what else I’m finding tricky? Rocking a rhyme. That’s right on time.” K. was on the line, so she may have thought it was funny, but the rest of these people are effing computer geeks, and I don’t think they would have gotten it.

I am looking forward to tomorrow night or wee hours of Saturday morning, being back home with my sugar lump and my kitties and also I miss Shiner.

11:50

C: So, girl downstairs wearing a loose-fitting, majorly off-the-shoulder blouse. Work appropriate?

11:52

G: Off-the-shoulder is only appropriate on a sweatshirt in music videos circa 1983.

Says the chick dressed like a flight attendant, so take with the appropriate-sized grain of salt.

C: I've been waiting for the appropriate time to come by and ask for a bag of pretzels.

G: I probably would not have gotten it – I’d have opened my snack drawer and started poking around.

11:54

G: And then you would have made a snide remark.

And I'd have given you the finger.

And you would have clutched your pearls and gasped.

C: Sooooo, pretty much like every other day.

G: Pretty much.

Dear neighbors that left their blinds open and enough lights on to confirm my suspicions that you do, indeed, still have your Christmas tree up,
Thank you. So much.

Love,
G

Google or iPhone or God/Bill Gates should really come up with an application to which you can hum those 5 notes to a song that you cannot place but has been in your head all afternoon since that dude walked down the hall whistling it and you would give anything to know who that was just so you can hunt him down and ask, "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHAT SONG?!?!", stranger or no, so then you would Know! The! Song! and thus purge it from your brain.

Let it never be said that we don't know how to live fast: as I type this, we are watching Mad Men Season 3 and trying at-home ear candling.

G: "What does it feel like?"
J: "I don't feel anything, but the burning sounds kind of like Rice Krispies."

G: (as I check out the remnants of the first candle, while the second one is burning) "OMG! WAX! GROSS!"
J: (lying on the bed with a flaming piece of muslin coming out of his ear)"Shutup! I can't see it! You suck!"

John did mine next, and it was actually relaxing - I nearly fell asleep (except for the fact that I could roll over and set the bed on fire). Also, my ears are apparently nastier than John's. I win!

I know some people scoff at efficacy, but I know what I saw in that candle. I will not post pics, because trust - it is fucking disgusting. But! I am fascinated and obsessed.

DO IT.

Happy Friday, my chickens.

May your weekend consist of irresistible jams. Gin wants nobody but *you*.