Sorry about the lack of postage, it's just that every time I look at my journal and think, "I need to write on that," I discover that I really don't feel like it. I guess doing practically nothing but working is taking its toll on me. Perhaps I need to get out more. Which brings me to the news:
1) The van is back. Yes, the one I crashed. It's fixed, but mom says no driving until I'm on her insurance. Understandable. I'm hoping (yet immensely nervous about) to get more driving in and get my license soon. That way I can drive myself places.
2) I'm moving everything out of my room. We had a problem with our electric stuffage, and since the fuse box that they need to fix is in my room, I have to be out of it. And I decided that since I will be out of there, and also most of my things, that it would be a splendid time to paint my room. I declared that it shall be a light green. So, tomorrow shall be spent putting things in boxes. I'm excited about painting, but not to fond of the idea of sleeping on the couch for days.
Let's see, anything else? I suppose I'll just give a quick overview of the weeks following Christmas up til now.
Worked, Moueska came over for a few days til New Years, which wasn't that great, but then again, when is it? Worked (more than 40 hours that week, whew!), saw Phantom, which rocked my socks, did a little shopping with Christmas money, worked, had a couple days off, Jess and I set up a little kitchen downstairs for ourselves, which we are very proud of, hung out with Sarah, argued with Joe, worked.
So yeah, I've been doing a lot of working, and a lot of being at home. I need a life.
And all the guys at work laughed at me when I said I was too short to fill the shake machine. Then my manager told me about the stepstool, after
I had finished and spilled mix everywhere. But oddly, it was funny, if embarrassing.