One latte and she's anyone's

My plans to embrace celibacy for the next few weeks have fallen quickly by the wayside. Ian* showed up early this morning with a vanilla latte, and one thing led to another, and it seemed like a pretty good idea at the time. I showed up at work slightly late, but in a better mood than usual.

Although my own workday hasn't gone downhill as yet, I'm rather worried about my friends in Jack County, as a large and fast-moving grass fire is headed their way. It's moving too quickly for anyone to attempt damage control by plowing a few rows with a tractor (this is called cutting a fire line; it sometimes but doesn't always stop a fire). I'm not sure they even own a tractor anyway.

All they have is a mess of rescued critters: cats, dogs, horses an elderly donkey and even a few pesky goats. My friend is always threatening to turn them into cabrito when they break into her cat food stash, but they never take her seriously.

* See Key to Characters at right.

Surrealism and Viking hordes

Even after a sleepless night due a severe and unexpected asthma attack, I seem to be coming out of my doldrums/ennui/SAD*/sulk. I forced myself back to shaolin class yesterday after work, which had the effect of renewing my interest in the new forms.

I also received two books I'd located at the Alibris Web site: Spanish director Luis Bunuel's autobiography, and a recent history of the Vikings.

I'm not sure why I wanted the Bunuel book. Although I've liked parts of some of his films, a couple of them have left me either bored or wondering what all the fuss was about. I think I was curious to find out how a surrealist spent his days when not working on confusing films. So far, the book's been quite enjoyable.

* Seasonal Affective Disorder, which bothered me quite a bit when living in the UK. Sometimes I contract a milder but still recognizable case of SAD here.

A worthy timewaster

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back-handed compliments

Yesterday, my immediate manager came to visit me. She had that deer in the headlight expression on her face, but since she had a pile of what was obviously work to give to me, I didnt' make the assumption that I was being fired again.

The news wasn't bad really, but then I like to be tied up occasionally as well.

Seems that I have been assigned to a project with mega-short deadlines - one that's been tossed around like a ticking bomb, as nobody else wanted to handle it any more. Instead of writing policies, I'll be writing underwriting procedures.  All of them. 

The only drawback is that I have about three weeks to finish the whole thing.

According to my manager, I was requested to be the lucky slob to write the procedures as I was considered "the strongest writer" in the department. (Does that come with more money?)

So I think my plan to cut back on caffeine is going to have to wait until April. Something else will have to go during Lent. Probably sex. Or sleep.

low-grade ennui

Although I have no facility for language - the only way I learned some Cantonese is after six months of total immersion - I still find it interesting that other languages have words with no English equivalent. One is the French word ennui, which translates to a mixture of weariness, discontent and boredom. Unfortunately there seems to be a bit of ennui going around, and I have it. There's a dash of frustration in the mix as well.

The frustration stems from the fact that I don't have a good reason for being dysthemic in the first place. I figured out how to work in html script without losing my temper, I don't lack for male attention, and my finances aren't bad. I've even been able to move some surplus cash into my savings recently.

But for the past couple of weeks,  I've hated getting out of bed in the morning, kept wearing the same dull outfits to work, and skipped some shaolin classes. I ate too many Girl Scout cookies last week and I didn't even get the motorcycle out last weekend. I just wanted to doze.

Astute readers may suspect I was disappointed with Valentine's Day. Although I ignore the holiday, generally preferring spontaneous displays of affection, I was very happy with the roses Ian* brought over. I realize I'm a washout as far as female expectations go - most want jewelry - but I really like receiving flowers. Besides, expensive gifts make me nervous.

Last night I had this odd dream about finding my friend Lauren's chickens in all of my closets. She recently built and populated a chicken coop in real-time. In the dream, I rounded them all up and returned them to her.  I found a couple of eggs in the house later.

Certainly I can solve this ennui thing on my own. But my inability to even manage an interesting dream during the last couple of weeks is beginning to worry me.

* See Key to Characters at right.