Seven Years Ago Today...

Wow, I'm old. Seven years ago today, for the first time ever, I got flowers from a guy. A week later, he asked me out. Five months later, we broke up. We're still good friends. He bought me roses for our three-month anniversary, and no one's gotten me flowers since. This isn't a pity me post; actually, quite the opposite. I was in A&P the other day, looking at their flowers, and thinking of the time of year and for the life of me, I couldn't stop smiling. It's nice to have good memories like that, ones that will make you smile nearly a decade later.

Nearly a decade. God, I'm old.

I do kind of have to wonder where all the useful, gentlemanly gentlemen have gotten to, though. I haven't seen many of them around for... oh, about six and a half years.

Still no news on the job front; I'm going to have to do another round of resumeing, I think. Ugh.

I thought today was going to be a productive day, but I feel so unproductive. I still don't have Internet in the office (my wifi works fine :), which is fine for right now, but really needs to be fixed soon. I don't feel like working out, which is unusual and smelly, because I really do have to work out every day. Spooey's been out of town for two weeks now, so I've been going alone, which is gross and not really safe. About all I can do is change the time I go at every day, and hope the people that always seem to be on my route aren't going to turn into psycho stalkers. Muh-lah.

I did do one productive thing today, though. I fixed the squeak on the door that leads into the front room. As you may or may not be aware, I sleep in the corner of my parents' living room, right next to the front room, which has had, for the past eight years, a door that squeaks horrendously loudly every time it is opened. I've been there since February. Since the beginning of May, when I actually started sleeping through most nights, that door has been waking me up at all hours, and driving me crazy. This morning when it woke me up, I decided that I would make it my personal mission to see to it that it never squeaked again. That was actually fairly easy to achieve, since my dad left the WD-40 (the best-smelling substance on the face of the earth!) sitting on his jigsaw, so all I had to do was go into the basement, get it, and spray it on the door hinges. Nonetheless, I feel like I have the right to be proud of my fix-it prowess, because I fixed something that hasn't even been looked at it the last eight years - and because I'm a girl and I know what WD-40 is.

Now, I suppose, I must go and work out. I really, really don't wanna. On the bright side, I have about a million outfits that I couldn't wear until last week, and about a million more that I'll be able to wear by the end of the summer.