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Watching mindless garbage on television. (Well, not as garbage-y as it could be... I mean, it's America's Next Top Model, not an afternoon "talk" show about paternity tests and cheating boyfriends getting hooked up to lie detectors. [Speaking of Garbage, I like that band.]) Captioning a backlog of photos online. Wearing an AE polo and pajama shorts, halfway dressed down from work in my favorite recliner (in which I seldom actually recline). Craving ice cream, even though I had a Georgia Mud Fudge Blizzard just twenty-four hours ago. (So I'm addicted... so what?) In short, I'm lounging in a pool of unproductiveness (which doesn't sound like a real word, and isn't according to the built-in Firefox spell check, but dictionary.com confirms that it is indeed not a mere product of my ridiculousness) in a quiet house, reflecting on my love of parentheses (except not really to the whole reflecting part, if you assume that I meant true reflection and not just pretend reflection). Random interjection: someone on the TV show just used the word "dodgy," one of my favorites.

I felt useful at med training today because I was able to draw attention to an issue that hadn't really been addressed. Apparently some of our clients chew up their meds all together, even though many of those shouldn't actually be chewed. !!! I wondered aloud if there could be some rather serious adverse effects to this beyond just the fact that all those pills wouldn't taste very good (as it seemed pretty common-sense to me that there could be), and after the nurse/trainer bookmarked the page in the drug book for me to read, we discovered that indeed chewing up those pills could cause some serious problems. Not that this was in any way surprising; in fact, I would've been surprised if there weren't some serious issues with chomping up non-chewable meds. I was surprised that it seemed like this hadn't been addressed before, but sometimes you get so used to looking at something that you overlook potential problems you haven't already considered. Regardless, it's something that the nurse says will be discussed in med training from now on. So at least I was good for more than eating three of the cookies that were sitting in front of me emitting an irresistibly delicious cookie scent.

As far as my to-do list is concerned, I accomplished several necessary (if not-so-time-consuming) tasks today: I renewed my driver's license - and got an even worse license photo out of the deal than I'd had before, thus reaching a bad-driver's-license-picture level heretofore thought unachievable - as it was set to expire on the twenty-first anniversary of my birth (i.e. tomorrow), and got new license plate tags (and rejoiced at the fact that I could keep my ugly license plate for now, which is still less ugly when compared to the new Midwest-vogue Indiana plates already responsible for an ACLU lawsuit); I trained at a group home I'll be subbing in a couple of times next week; I did one load of laundry (yeah, that was taxing... a whole load); I mailed a few burnt CDs to a friend (a task that had been lingering on my to-do list for weeks); I stalked the local Rite Aid for the third time this week in hopes of finding a new planner (but, again, no luck - they still haven't unpacked their new shipment of school supplies, in which I was told all the new planners were hiding); I ordered the four books from the suggested reading list for our Winter Term '08 trip to Spain and Morocco (and slipped the new Spoon album into the order); and... well, I don't remember if I did anything else useful, but I know I did eat a heaping portion of potato salad and chicken salad. A girl's gotta eat, right? Or so I hear. I often toy with making that phrase my mantra. (I'm joking, P.S. Sarcasm needs its own special font so it can be easily recognized in Internet-speak. Wouldn't that make conversing online so much easier? Ah, but I digress into daydreams of utopia.)

Eight e-mail accounts is too many. So is two bank accounts. One of the latter two shall soon be sacrificed on the altar of convenience, but all of the previous eight shall live to see another day.

Brandi Carlile remains my current musical obsession (with a little taste of Feist here and there). Maybe the arrival of the new Spoon CD in a few days will divert my attention, thereby temporarily relieving whatever negative feelings course through Tyler's body every time he slides into my car only to hear the same songs playing yet again in what probably starts to feel to him like a musical prison on wheels.




Slightly belated P.S. (not that you would know it's coming twenty-five minutes after my initial "publish post" click, since the time stamp doesn't give you such detailed information): The new Axe commercials are nauseating.