(no subject)

Well, I walked down the first step on my way to the kitchen (which is in the basement, and thus 4 flights of stairs from my room) and my knee made this ominous grating noise and then went all pain pain pain. So I limped downstairs for my cup of milk (Because damnit, i'd already started down the stairs, and I needed my milk), chatted with the new kitchen manager, hurt my knee every few minutes by flexing it, and then finally fled in pain to take my pills before dinner. Eeee. It still hurts hurts hurts hurts. I have to hang onto the wall as I walk down the stairs, but going up is okay. And we're going to put a new bookcase in my room in a few minutes, so I'll have to help manuveur things around, but not necessarily up and down stairs, because I have so much pain.

Actually, I'm being somewhat melodramatic--it's painful when I use it, but not all the time, and it's just sharp stabbing, not throbbing. Which is good. my mom says it's pieces of cartiledge that's caught in the joint--icky icky icky, eh?

But i need to give up the computer now, which is sad because I was going to say something less icky, but I ran out of time. TOmorrow maybe, or later tonight. we'll see.

(no subject)

My computer has been kitted, assembled, tested, and is now waiting for boxing. I've come to the conclusion that the box is many many miles from the rest of the factory because it's expected to take 12 days to get it into a box. meh! but I have to remember to check again tomorrow, because I need to warn the office people here when it's due so someone is in the office to sign for it. And my blankets should maybe hopefully be here tomorrow.

There's a new boy here at the house, the new Kitchen Manager. He's very cute. I was discussing the best pesto I've ever had (artichoke heart and lemon juice, from Whole Foods. Best thing in the world on chips.) and he asked me, at the dinner table, completely seriously looking and everything, if it was the best thing I'd ever put in my mouth. Now maybe it's just me, but I'm pretty sure that's a darn dirty question. I said it was, but that my experiences were limited. And yes, I was looking at him when I said it, and yes I said it with a straight face.

It was his first dinner with the house, and the first time he'd seen a lot of these people, but when, as the salad was being passed around at the request of someone from across the room, he helped himself to a pile, only to have the guy say, "That was the leaf I wanted." Without batting an eye, he very carefully then moved the leaf *back* into the salad bowl, and everyone cheered.

yesterday I was discussing with a couple of house people why the Giving Tree sucks (it does. It really really does. I mean, come on, the message it is sending is "die for unrequited love.") "I prefer the Birthday Tree," I say. (The birthday tree is a much sweeter story with a boy who has a tree planted when he's born, and the tree grows the same way he does, and when he leaves home, they use the tree to tell if he's okay.) "The birthday tree is much cooler, and it has sailors in it!" I get a little lost as to why I'm mentioning that at this point, and finish with, "Because, you know, sailors make everything better." And the gay boy sitting next to me looks at me with that look, you know. And says, "I don't know what you're talking about, but I like the way your mind works."

My room has been rearranged. I hate my desk, still, but it will probably stay in my room anyways. I put it by the door though. The bookcase is now behind my bed, seeing as while I did have the desk there, as someplace nicely out of the way, the first thing I did the very first morning I woke up was stretch all to heck, like I often do and just slam my hand into the edge of the desk. This is probably, to a large extent, why I hate the desk. (I also have bruises on the back of both legs from the chair that was at this computer but is no more, another bruise on the front of my leg from something else, and I think one on the side of my other leg from yet a third thing. I also have the bruise on my hand, and wondered briefly last week if I was going to get a black eye from the dog tussle that resulted when I was petting the other day. (Emma, Bella, Pipper and Cooper. Piper was a pitbull, I think, Cooper a greyhound type, and Bella and Emma were sweet goldens))

I have been informed by Andrea (who has her own boy drooling to report, but who will probably forget) that I'm an idiot when it comes to, well, my life, and thus she is giving me an assignment for tomorrow of asking the boy if he wants to come with when I go get chai in the afternoon. This is oddly disturbing to me. I am fretting. Why do I make everything into such a big deal?

Work went well. We figured out a couple of things that I couldn't figure out on my own. he hassled me via IM. I'm currently at this moment doing a very small project for someone else, and then back to work for him. I'm hoping I get german stuff back soon. (aw. Very cute boy with a pseudomohawk just tromped downstairs looking tired and confused. Sleepy boys are so cute.) Even if I don't, this particular group of files gave me plenty to do, and there's another 4 of these linkbot reports to take care of, so I have the potential for a good bit more work yet. And I'm making $10.65 an hour. meh.