I can't believe I haven't updated this damn blog in a week. Sorry guys. You must have thought I died! (Or, alternatively, you all have lives and didn't even notice)
I'm in the process of clearing out files and emails at work- deleting a year's worth of forwards, intra-office memos, and "let's go for coffee! now!" notes takes awhile, I have found. Then, because I was on a roll, I decided to tackle my personal inbox.
I have a problem with deleting emails.
I don't know what it is or why- I have emails saved from back before the internet was available in colour. Back from when I was in High School. Some of them I save because- well, for example, the email from my cousin Erin that she sent while I was in Quebec, letting me know that her dad was sick. I can't delete it.
Or the email my friend Jane sent after she left Calgary and had cried all night. She was drunk and in New York City. How could I?
But I think that there may be reason for me to delete some of them.
I have kept every single email I have ever sent or received from someone I've dated. Seriously. We're looking at six solid years of courting correspondence- you can track them. It's my history of relationships, laid out neatly, by date and timestamped. And I date. A lot. Never for long, but in high frequency. That's a LOT of email, people.
Like, over 500 separate emails. Seriously. A lot of them are really funny. Some of them, including the one replying to the email I sent where I tell a certain someone that I'd just rather not see them again- is really funny. But some of them hurt to look at. I can't even open them. I know what they say, I know how I felt when I first received them, and I know that I can never, ever delete them.
Girlfriend needs more memory space. Or a massive server crash to wipe out all evidence of my past lives. Anyone know someone at Google who could arrange that?
A long, snuggly nap. And by snuggly, I mean with myself and a blanket, maybe a pillow; not with another human being to snuggle with. Because I don't snuggle. Gross. Touching someone while sleeping/being touched while sleeping? And you can't get away from them? And they might stop breathing at any given moment? Yuck.
I would also like some hot cocoa. Which isn't what I ever call it, because in my house we called it Hot Chocolate. And it came from a powdered mix that Mom added marshmallows and hot water to. And we drank it out of green and orange tupperware mugs when we were camping.
Anyway, I'm not napping, nor am I drinking hot cocoa, instead, I'm trying to remind myself that eating an entire tub of cream cheese will not do my hips any favours. Even if it's delicious strawberry cream cheese.
Back at the U of C, prestigious educational institution it is, I had Fridays off. Every Thursday I would roll into my Marketing 465 research class and loudly proclaim, "It's Thursday!" with such great enthusiasm.
I miss those days. Today I was torn between "oh, Thursday. Couldn't it be Friday already?" and "It's Thursday already? I have so much work to do yet..." Isn't growing up fun?
Speaking of growing up, here's what's new in my life: New job, soon to be new roommate, new furniture and a new suitcase. Lots and lots of business travel is in my future, friends, so soon I may be blogging at you from such exotic locales as Vancouver, Toronto and Edmonton! Hold on to your hats, yo!
I would just like to know what, exactly, you have against staying near the back of the dryer. Look. I get it, okay? I am also a spotlight seeking attention whore. But I really don't need everyone doing their wash at Ye Olde Neighbourhood Laudromat to know that I have a strong leaning towards hot pink, okay? Just, this once, please let the sheets and pillowcases take centre stage. I thank you for making Sunday washday a little less exciting for the creepy guys that hang out there.
Compiled list from sources far wiser than me, including but not limited to my parents, my aunts, uncles, cousins, grandmothers, coworkers, teachers, Miss Piggy and strangers on the street.
I before E, except after C. Never make your hobby your job. When making a living, don't forget to make a life. Don't get floor-licking drunk when a guest in someone's home. Think before you respond. Listen twice as much as you talk. Don't eat more than you can lift. Ever tried. Ever failed. Never matter. Fail again. Fail better. No one buys the cow when they can get the milk for free, but some people are lactose intolerant and that just ain't right. Don't take it personally. It's your responsibility, but it's not your fault.