Was pushing around the vacuum at work and thinking about how, when R and I met, I was wearing a new blue shirt, and he was wearing his beige pants, and we've both since lost and/or rejected these items of clothing, and wondering if it was some Jungian symbol of growth and moving past first stages. Just a thought.
Spent most of my 2-day weekend sleeping, apparently prompting the observation from Matt (well-founded but inaccurate this particular weekend) to R that "Man, you guys must have vigourous sex, because whenever you disappear into your room for a while, you come out, but she has to sleep it off for a few hours." I am, of course, mortally embarassed, but man was it good to sleep.
We pretty much come to the conclusion that the bird's somewhat brain-damaged -- he has a bruise on his beak that would indicate he smacked into a window, before we caught him. Unlike 2 weeks ago, he doesn't seem to be making any progress at all, fights like hell when you hold him, and would rather be inside the cage than out. I've suggested calling him Houdini because he's an escape-artist and damn hard to catch, but I think the truth is he'll probably remain Bird forever, because naming a thing is like owning a thing, and owning a thing is like replacing an old thing. So we all feel that by naming him, we're replacing Tweetie, and we don't want to.
Tired. Tired of all these stupid audits and assessments and SOP and CPV and whatever the hell a CSR is.... As much as I didn't get on with Joice last summer, I miss the informality of the BIA. But then I remember about Joice, and it all goes away.
Readin' nothing
Listenin' to nothing
Thinkin' about getting a drink, possibly chocolate soy stuff
Most recently I was 
