6 January
Cold. Cold cold cold.
No sympathy from the really cold bits of the country, I'm sure, but I was wearing gloves in my apartment and trying to coax a cat, any cat, into sleeping on my lap. It was so cold that leaving the oven on didn't even begin to break the wall of cold.
Of course, I went out to turn up the useless heat and found that it was actually off, so that mystery was solved.
I mean, I still need a space heater (and I am buying one tomorrow), but at least I don't have to wear a wooly hat while indoors on a regular basis.
So yesterday was my first day back at the salt mines.
The Raccoon was extremely happy to see me--if you want to feel loved and needed, work in a tiny department with too much work to do, then go on vacation. I thought she would give me a parade.
So I worked from 10.30a 'till 9p. I can see my future, and, this week at least, I think that most days will be just like that one.
Remember when Hercules was cleaning the Augean Stables? My pile of work is similar. Perhaps I should divert the Hudson?
So I debuted the new hair colour with my co-workers, and it mostly went over well.
Many people said the same thing that John and Mindia had said, that I looked much better with my hair black than red, which I felt was mildly insulting--like they never really wanted to bring up what a troll I looked like before I came to my senses and dyed my hair black.
Then one woman came up to me and told me for a full five minutes how much better I looked with red hair. So basically, she was telling me what a troll I looked like right that very minute, and she really really wanted to let me know that fact.
I have decided that I rather prefer the first response.
So after a day of overwork and being insulted by my friends, the most wonderful thing happened.
I was listening to the CBS-FM, and the DJ said "On January 8 this British singer, born David Robert Jones, will be 51 years old--who is he?" and gave the number to call if you knew, and I knew, so I thought what the hell, I'd call, and I dialed and it was busy, and the second time it was busy, and the third time it rang, and the DJ asked me what the answer was and I said "David Bowie!"
Which was correct! I have never won a radio call-in contest in my life. In fact, I have never tried to win a radio call-in contest in my life! Except for once in high school I called and knew the right answer, but there was no prize involved.
And I won the Burt Bacharach box set, which I have been meaning to get, as I hear it's great. But the best part was when I got to talk on the radio and re-enact my winning moment, and he said "Most callers thought that it was Davy Jones," and I said:
"What a buncha idiots!"
Today's horoscope:
Tact is marked today; you know what to say and when. You might put people on a bit of a pedestal; give yourself credit also.
One year ago today:
Was there extra baggage? Lots of fat people? What?
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Last Updated Wed 6 January 09:11:09 1999