better, with admittedly low standards
Dec. 5th, 2007 10:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mamajoanWell, this morning would have had to work awfully hard to be worse than yesterday morning anyway, and apparently it didn't really feel like bothering.
Ruthie slept from 9pm to about 4:30am, so I slept from 11pm to about 4am, which was a nice change of pace. Then this morning she clobbered me with a book (unintentionally) so now I have a fat lip and a nice raw scraped bit on the bottom of my bottom lip, which makes me look like a battered wife or something, but more importantly, which hurts! Especially when exposed to air. Which means, all the time. urgh.
On the plus side, there was no more water dripping from the ceiling, which is always good. I haven't heard back from Brian though. I know he went into my apt yesterday to look at the problem, but he never called back to let me know what he found/thought. hmf.
Also I had to cancel/postpone the Keyspan visit to look at the rattling gas meter. I realized that I wouldn't be able to stay home from 8am to 1pm today because I have a meeting at noon. I could have taken a gamble that they'd get there in time for me to make the meeting, but I wasn't in a gambling mood so I called them back and rescheduled for tomorrow.
I forgot to mention that the other night Isaac and I made english-muffin pizzas. He greatly enjoyed making them, but then refused to eat them. I insisted that he try one bite, which he did begrudgingly, and announced that he didn't like it and wouldn't try any more. Siiiigh. So much for trying to expand our repertoire. And now I have almost an entire can of tomato sauce in the fridge. (which, for those who aren't paying attention, won't get used because I can't eat tomatoes.) Not to mention almost an entire bag of shredded mozzarella, but I'm sure we'll find some use for that.
Then the day after that, Isaac was watching me use the computer and I was logging in to something and he said, "what are you typing?" and I said "I'm typing my username" and he said "what are you typing now?" and I said "I'm typing my password" and he said "My password is pizza." Oh really? "Yeah, because I really love pizza." *grit teeth, grit teeth, do not say well then why didn't you eat the english-muffin pizza I so lovingly thought up and helped you to make?* heh.
Still, when it comes to "real" bought-from-a-pizza-parlor pizza, it's true: he loves it. Possibly he thinks that "password" means "favorite word."
Ruthie slept from 9pm to about 4:30am, so I slept from 11pm to about 4am, which was a nice change of pace. Then this morning she clobbered me with a book (unintentionally) so now I have a fat lip and a nice raw scraped bit on the bottom of my bottom lip, which makes me look like a battered wife or something, but more importantly, which hurts! Especially when exposed to air. Which means, all the time. urgh.
On the plus side, there was no more water dripping from the ceiling, which is always good. I haven't heard back from Brian though. I know he went into my apt yesterday to look at the problem, but he never called back to let me know what he found/thought. hmf.
Also I had to cancel/postpone the Keyspan visit to look at the rattling gas meter. I realized that I wouldn't be able to stay home from 8am to 1pm today because I have a meeting at noon. I could have taken a gamble that they'd get there in time for me to make the meeting, but I wasn't in a gambling mood so I called them back and rescheduled for tomorrow.
I forgot to mention that the other night Isaac and I made english-muffin pizzas. He greatly enjoyed making them, but then refused to eat them. I insisted that he try one bite, which he did begrudgingly, and announced that he didn't like it and wouldn't try any more. Siiiigh. So much for trying to expand our repertoire. And now I have almost an entire can of tomato sauce in the fridge. (which, for those who aren't paying attention, won't get used because I can't eat tomatoes.) Not to mention almost an entire bag of shredded mozzarella, but I'm sure we'll find some use for that.
Then the day after that, Isaac was watching me use the computer and I was logging in to something and he said, "what are you typing?" and I said "I'm typing my username" and he said "what are you typing now?" and I said "I'm typing my password" and he said "My password is pizza." Oh really? "Yeah, because I really love pizza." *grit teeth, grit teeth, do not say well then why didn't you eat the english-muffin pizza I so lovingly thought up and helped you to make?* heh.
Still, when it comes to "real" bought-from-a-pizza-parlor pizza, it's true: he loves it. Possibly he thinks that "password" means "favorite word."
