A Night of Rest?

I was so looking forward to last night. It was my first night "in" in quite awhile. I had all kinds of plans...watch a few episodes of Big Love (from Netflix). Make a nice dinner. Catch up on some reading. Play with my new tarot cards. But of course, none of that came to fruition.

For one, I'm still getting used to my new hours. At my previous place of employment, I had flexible hours. However, at my new job it's strictly 8-5. So, after work I found myself with a "must do" errand, and by the time I found what I was looking for, and got home, it was after 6 p.m.

That nice dinner? Oh, I still made it...but it took so long to make that I actually had dinner while I was making it. So, after the dish was done baking, I slapped some aluminum foil on it and stuck it in the refrigerator for...tonight? No time. Tomorrow? Won't be home. Breakfast on Saturday? Perhaps.

When dinner was finished cooking, I sat down to watch Big Love. But wait...I couldn't relax. There was too much cat hair and too many cat toys around for it to be relaxing. So, I cleared all the toys off the floor, grabbed the vacuum and went at it.

Thirty minutes later, I thought I could finally relax. But then I remembered the reason for my errand: buying an answering machine so my phone wouldn't ring and ring and ring and ring when I wasn't able to answer it. So, I sat down and set the thing up. Thirty minutes later I thought it might be time to finally relax...

Of course I was wrong. One of the cats threw up, so I had to get off the couch to clean that up. By then, it was 9 p.m. and I was exhausted. I made sure the cats had food, water, and then I went off to bed.

I had hoped I would pass out...unfortunately, I got up three separate times last night. But that's another story for another time...

Guess I'll have to wait until next Wednesday to have another night of relaxation. Maybe next then I'll really be able to rest.

I Must Be Evil

About two weeks ago, I met a bunch of local bloggers from the singles site I belong to. I had a great time with everyone who showed up. However, I will admit that there were two guys to whom I found myself slightly attracted to. One was clearly in like with someone else at the event, and the other guy put me into the friend category.

Well, today I found out that the bloom is already off the new romance and this guy is back on the market. The minute I heard, I felt something move in my pants. Huh? What are my nether regions thinking? After all, this guy was going out with a kind of friend of mine.

Okay, so we're not close. And we only met each other once. But we have talked in the chat room and we do comment on each other's blogs, so it seems like we're friends. However, for all intents and purposes and of course, we are friends.

But are we the kind of friends who must honor the Girlfriend Law? Would it be okay for me to get involved with this guy? Or only my pants? Or neither?

I have no idea what the honorable thing to do is. I only know that my pants are kind of happy right now.

Roses and Wine

On Friday night, I received a dozen red roses. I know what you're thinking: "Piepa has someone on the hook." Well...I don't. But, since I'm an equal opportunity receiver, I'll take flowers from just about anyone who's willing to give them to me.

Unfortunately for me, my cats love roses so I had to bring them to work. And, once they were on my desk I had to field a bevy of questions ("Who are they from?") and also smile politely whenever someone said "Oh, you must have been a good girl this weekend." News flash: I'm always a good girl except when out on a date. Or driving a car.

I digress...

Flowers on my desk always cheer me up. Always. So much so that some weeks I'll forgo a grocery item or two so I can buy flowers instead. This week started out rather brutally, as I'm still in training and on Monday I had trouble "getting it" as they say. I hung in there as long as possible, and even though the flowers helped to take the edge off, I knew I needed wine that night to really relax me.

The good news: I was supposed to meet a bunch of my ex co-workers for free drinks at GSR. As soon as the whistle blew at 5 p.m., I was out like a light and headed for GSR. I kept thinking about how good it would be to sit down with old friends, talk about work, catch up on their lives, and drink free wine.

When I got to the 20 500 East Bar, I took a quick walk around and did not see any of my friends. Figuring I was the first one there, I saddled up to the bar to get my free drink. I think the bartender really hates giving out freebies, because he made me wait. And wait. And wait. I finally got my wine and snagged a table.

And waited some more. And some more. And some more.

Finally, I dialed up the co-workers for whom I had numbers. Lany: no answer. Carmen: no answer. Christine...wait, she wasn't going anyway, so I didn't call. Played my portable Yahtzee game. Still no friends. Had I been stood up?

After I finished my glass of wine, I decided to go home. The brave part of me wanted to go to the cafe and grab a bite. The lost soul part of me wanted to retreat to the safety of my home. The lost soul won, and home I went.

When I got home, I debated about opening up a bottle of wine. I bought an extraordinary wine from Cost Plus, and was saving it for a special occasion. Wasn't being depressed that my friends stood me up special? While I was debating this in my head, my phone rang.

I heard "Hey girlfriend..." and was instantly warmed by Lany's voice. Turns out I had the night wrong; our get-together isn't until next Monday night. Strangely, I felt instantly better knowing I was a bonehead, as it meant that I wasn't stood up. Or forgotten.

After the phone call the only thing I needed was some chamomile tea. I put the bottle of wine away for a special occasion...

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Well Groomed

I received a rather odd compliment from someone recently. He told me I was rather well groomed.

Now, like most girls I would hope to get compliments like "Gee you're hot" or "hubba hubba, I like your legs." And personally, I prefer compliments about my personality and/or how enjoyable I am to be around. So, being told I am well groomed, while obviously a compliment, has left me feeling completely flummoxed.

I suppose I should stop chewing on that and just enjoy it. Instead, I feel as if I must now work harder to become memorable for something other than my washing ritual and mad ironing skillz.

Claim Jumper Friends

If I've said it once, I've said it way too many times: Claim Jumper is probably my most favorite restaurant EVER. The reasons are varied...the service is almost always top notch, the food is plentiful and good, and I just like being there.

That said, my love of Claim Jumper is well known to those that know me and love me. And even those who don't love me. (But I won't focus on them now...) So, my boss, who won't be at work on my last day, took me to lunch today at Claim Jumper. He also invited Lany (my next-door cube neighbor) along.

These are two of my most favorite people at Acme Cardiac Safety Services. Mike was a great teacher, and really showed me the ropes when I first got to Covance. Lany also taught me a lot about how to succeed at my job. I'll be sad to leave them behind.

We had a nice time at Claim Jumper. We talked about work, people at work, next steps, the grief we felt over the lay off, cars, kittens, children, and the Independence Day. At the end of the meal, my boss insisted on buying me a brownie (something I normally don't indulge in, as Dr. Atkins would slap my hand if he knew what I was eating) to go. Frosted brownies are one of my favorite indulgences, so I was touched that he remembered and got me one.

I have two more days left at work: tomorrow and Monday. Today before I left, I packed some of my items up and as I placed them in a box I found myself tearing up. I wish I could have stayed at Acme. The people there were some of the best I'd ever worked with. I will really miss them (and my paycheck).

Hopefully I'll fit in at QuadNet and make new friends and be as highly esteemed as I am at Acme. I know one thing, though: Acme will always have a place in my heart, even after its doors are closed for good.

Sexy Red Shoes

Unlike most girls, I am not a shoe hound. I don't get excited about shoes, I don't spend much money on shoes, and I prefer flats to heels. Every once in awhile, though, I feel the need to get a little sexy with my footwear. Saturday was one of those days.

I have a few outfits which have been begging me to buy them a pair of red heeled sandals. So, feeling a bit restless and getting tired of hearing my outfits complain, I left the house Saturday afternoon to look for a pair. I only had forty minutes, so I went to my one of my favorite stores hoping I would find what I wanted.

I did.

Almost as soon as I walked in, I saw a pair of 3-inch red heeled strappy sandals. There was only one pair available...and they were a half size too small. I tried them on anyway, and they actually fit.

Wait. This was too good to be true. Not believing that they fit, I started walking up and down the aisle in the shoes, thinking that they would begin to hurt. They did not. A couple of women told me the shoes were sexy and that I should buy them. So I did.

I couldn't wait to wear them. On Monday, I pulled out one of my outfits and showed them the new shoes. My outfit was happy. I got ready for work, and on the way out the door I put on my new shoes. The total effect was marvelous.

But after 9 hours of work wearing those shoes, my feet started to cry. What looked like sexy straps to the average eye were actually small leather torture devices. I couldn't wait to take them off.

When I got home, I couldn't get them off fast enough. As soon as the shoes came off, I noticed my feet were bruised and chafed where the straps were. I soaked my feet in water, while Big Chief played on the edge of the tub.

Today my feet are not so sexy looking and still bear the marks of Monday's all-day torture session. It's been said that beauty hurts, and I have to agree.

It's back to Easy Spirits for me...at least until my feet heel and my outfits start whining at me again.