Monthly archive for January 2011

Voicemail

I have a dentist appointment on Wednesday afternoon.  This appointment is the inevitable consequence of two previous appointments I cancelled at the last minute (the last one while trying to act all nonchalant while really I was choking back tears and wishing I had gotten the nice receptionist, the one with the soothing voice who never acts inconvenienced and never makes me feel bad about rescheduling) and I’m really going to go this time, I swear, because I have a chipped molar that could probably use some attention before it needs some sort of treatment I can’t even consider, and I want to make sure I get my teeth cleaned once more before the baby comes and I can figure out a way to use her as an excuse to keep me from their office for the rest of my life.  (more…)

Treasure hunt

I had a long, stressful dream last night that I was racing through the mall, desperately trying to outrun Darth Vader and a small but ruthless team of storm troopers, all of us in pursuit of a diamond hidden in a painting.  I got to the kiosk first, figured out which painting the code was referring to (a cheesy landscape featuring a lighthouse with an actual blinking light), dug out the diamond (which was, of course, hidden in the canvas around the apparatus that made the light blink), and escaped — just barely — with my life.

I … do not feel refreshed and rejuvenated this morning.

Plus nap

I came up with what I feel is a failure-proof business idea the other night, and I am going to share it here, and you are welcome to use it as long as you give me full credit and 75% of the profits, which are sure to be huge.  This idea came to me as I was reminiscing about various massages I’ve had in the past, and thinking of how a massage always leaves me in such a perfect state of relaxation that when the massage therapist murmurs to me that our time is up but I can take all the time I need to get up and get dressed, I am forced to ignore her instructions and bound up almost as soon as I hear the latch click in the door, lest I fall into so deep a slumber that I completely forget to get up and get dressed at all and they are forced to knock on the door 25 minutes later, at which point I’d have to scramble to get dressed and slink sheepishly out to the reception area, where they’d have to charge me for an extra appointment because the room had been unavailable for the next client.  (more…)