Room

So I'm reading the book I got out yesterday -- Room, by Emma Donoghue. It is not just better than Lucy (the one about the ape girl). It's like, a million times better. It's riveting. I went to Target after work, then got home and parked on the couch and read for two and a half hours. There was a suspenseful part, and I actually started SHAKING while I was reading it. I put a blanket on in case I was cold, but I kept shaking, and I only stopped once the suspenseful part was over.

It's so transporting that I feel kind of crazy now. I finally stopped reading because I was hungry, because it was 9:30 and I hadn't had dinner. I watched Community, but in the episode everyone turned into zombies, and it freaked me out. Now I'm watching Project Runway and starting to feel normal, finally.

The last book I felt this sucked into, I think, was Into Thin Air, the one about climbing Mt. Everest by Jon Krakauer. I remember my roommate calling me for dinner, and I felt like I couldn't breathe, like I didn't have enough oxygen. I remember eating dinner and feeling crazy and like I was still on a mountain. This book is like that.

I think I'm done for the night though. If I start reading in bed I'll be up til 3 in the morning. I'm already sure to have crazy dreams.

So, yeah. Good book.

Library win!

So there's another book I want to read. I checked for it in the library catalog of where I work, and two copies were listed. One was ordered, but not yet received. The other one was at the main library and was checked out. I requested it and quickly found that I was sixth on the list. So, no worries, the line will move slowly but it will move, and one day I'll get an e-mail that it's in and it will be an awesome surprise.

Today I went to check my request to see if the line had moved at all. Sure enough, I was now fifth. Woo-hoo! That's not the win though.

I idly clicked on the other copy, and it was no longer on order -- it was listed as being at the other library, AND NOT CHECKED OUT. One copy had five requests on it, including mine. The other copy, somehow, mysteriously, was AVAILABLE. So I booked it (har har) over to the library, afraid the book would disappear before I got there, despite the fact that I idiotically wore rain boots with no socks to walk to work this morning and have literally about 12 blisters. I ran to its place on the shelf, and -- it wasn't there. Oh well. Too good to be true. I had brought the last book I took out to return, so it wasn't a waste of a trip, even though I would not have chosen to go today with super hurty blistered feet.

As I was handing over my old book at the circ desk, at the last minute I figured it couldn't hurt to ask. She checked, and, guess what? The book I wanted was so new it was on THE NEW BOOKS SHELF. And bonus: The new books shelf was opposite the circ desk, like ten feet away. I didn't even have to walk anywhere else; I just turned around and there it was. Faced out to boot.

So, that's right, I somehow jumped the line of five people and got the OTHER copy of this book. In fact? I'm the first to check it out. It's a 28-day loan, but I'm quite certain it will get requested long before that once it occurs to someone else to check the catalog again and the jig is up. But until then, it's mine, ALL MINE!

Now, hopefully it's better than the ape-girl book.

Small victories, man! Small. Victories.

The Last Pretzel Rolls of Summer

Today was the last farmers' market at work. I brought my lunch (yay me), but I decided to get some tomatoes (I eat quite a lot of tomatoes) and two pretzel rolls. I am obsessed with pretzel rolls, and on Tuesdays in the summer I often have them for...well, with...lunch. They're from Mariposa Bakery. I don't know why they're so awesome. I don't know what it is that makes them taste like pretzels. I suppose this means I don't know what pretzels actually are. But whatever they are, these rolls are that. They are also salted on the top, which takes them over the line into awesome city.

I was too full from lunch to eat them then, but I took them home for dinner.

Sometimes when I bring pretzel rolls home I forget to eat them. This is a tragedy. They also come in a paper bag and I often forget to put them in a plastic bag (which you need to do beyond 12 hours or so), and then they get stale, sometimes much more quickly than I expected. Sometimes they're burned, and sometimes if you wait too long to eat them the salt sort of alternately melts into them and falls off. This is terribly disappointing and anticlimactic.

Sometimes I go overboard and get like four. This is never a good idea because I'm either forcing myself to eat pretzel rolls that I don't really want or I'm throwing out stale pretzel rolls a few days later.

So, at least partially because I'm thinking about money, I was quite determined to eat them both tonight and for them not to be stale. I didn't put them in plastic, but I made sure not to leave the paper open at least. I was pretty hungry when I got home, but I hate eating right when I get home, so I waited, even as I was somewhat worried that they were losing their mojo. And I just ate 'em, and they were both GLORIOUS. Soft and pretzely and not burned and with the salt all perched perkily on top. Soooooooo good.

A fitting end to the farmers' market season. (Also for dinner: tomatoes and cheese. Later, possibly, pudding.)

Although, as my sister often reminds me, if I really want them during the rest of the year I only have to go to Central Square. But, I don't know. It wouldn't be the same. See you next summer, pretzel rolls.

The Event

is getting kinda cool. I wouldn't call it a new Lost. But...it's getting kinda cool.

Soooooo, I don't have much more than that to say, but I wanted to log two posts today since I skipped yesterday. :P

I'm just saying, The Event is not half bad. Check it out sometime, won't you.

Money

I'm kind of freaking out about it.

My sister/roommate moved out, and also took her car. So I lost rent money and also gained a car payment. I have a nice cheap lease, but it's still a payment. Net result: Approximately $800 less a month than I'm used to. That is...kind of a lot.

I knew this was going to happen, but the reality of it is still sinking in. I am hurting over here. I have been working hard this month to eat lunch out less (which requires lots and lots of planning, which I am not good at, but I'm trying), and have bought nothing other than groceries and gifts, except for one $5 can of Behandla. I STILL can't make all my bills without transferring from savings. I HAVE savings, for the moment, but if this keeps up I won't have savings anymore.

I've stopped paying extra on my mortgage -- I was paying about $250 extra/month. That has helped a bit. I wonder if I can refinance. Except that will also cost money. Auuugh.

I really really really really do not want to have to get a second job. That would blow.

I just need to tighten everything down, to a way greater degree than I was doing before. That's all. I can do it.

Being a grown-up is hard. And Christmas is coming up, groan.

This post is not fun. Sorry.

Steamboy

This was the least Japanese Japanese movie I've ever watched. I usually watch animes with the original audio, but this one takes place in England, the subtitles seemed suspiciously vague (as subtitles often are), and I switched to English after a few minutes. I'm glad I did, because one of the voices is Patrick Stewart! Yay! And I just IMDB'd it and the boy main character is Anna Paquin. Nice.

I just liked it. The art was really good. Maybe better than Metropolis even. (Anime Metropolis, I mean.) This is steampunk, I guess. It's pretty groovy. Giant machines are cool. Steam seems a little unstable though. Seems to blow up a lot of pipes, etc.

And it was very European. Not like a fake Japanese-y Europe like Kiki's Delivery Service. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I really appreciated that all the Manchester people, in the English dub, had Manchester-y accents. Wikipedia says that they spent 10 years working on this movie. It does look very polished. And it makes sense, which is more than I can say for some animes I've seen.

OK, I'll be honest: the thing is still on, and I'm bored, because it's the shooting part, and the shooting part is very long. But I won't count that against it because most people enjoy the shooting parts. And up until that part I quite liked it. I won't post this until it's over, just in case it goes horribly wrong or something.

All right. It's done. After the shooting it got pretty good again. I'll still take Miyazaki over this kind of thing any day, but I'm glad I watched it. Also, now I can return it, and get more Mad Men. Hee hee.

In which I fail at Behandla-ing

I really slobbed it on there this time, and left a bunch just slimed up on the top so it would really sink in. Then I forgot to wipe it off for two hours. It's supposed to be wiped off after 15 minutes. Whoops.

I actually think it looks good though. It's really shiny and awesome. I scrubbed it off as well as I could. Didn't see any streaks or anything. The Stenstorp wants me to be bold. It's like a big oily wooden oracle.

For the record, I had pizza today. Whew. Now, I'm having a leftover burrito. I really loved those burritos, but I think I may be cured of burritos for a while after this. This is the trouble with me. I crave variety. When variety is not available, salt will usually do as a substitute.

Anyway, now it's time for MAD MEN MAD MEN MAD MEN MAD MEN MAD MEN MAD MEN MAD MEN MAAAAAAAD MEEEEEEEEN. (Those are the lyrics, you know.)

Pizza

Pizza is one of those foods where all I have to do is think about it for a SECOND, and I crave it.

I was all ready to have a leftover sweet potato and black bean burrito (very delicious), or some leftover rice with steak in it (also delicious). But I was watching last week's Office, and they were eating pizza and now ALL I WANT IS A PIZZA. Even the WORD "pizza" makes me want pizza. It's full of z's and triangles and the p and the a are like pepperoni. OMG I WANT PIZZA SO HARD.

Sometimes even the colors green and red together make me want pizza. Because of some old pizza box I had when I was a kid or something. Just the fact that I titled this post "Pizza" pretty much guarantees that I will eat pizza the next time I see it.

I'm probably not going to EAT any pizza, because I don't have any, and I don't feel like waiting for delivery because it's 7:45, and also I'm trying to be frugal and not get takeout all the time. But it is tempting. Indeed, it is tempting.

I said "one of those foods" up there, but I don't think any other food has this power over me. Though Mexican comes close.

I do have some pizza-flavored goldfish, and I am fairly sure that I'm about to eat about 150 of those.

Well. Off to do that then.

Behandla 2

So according to the Stenstorp instructions I'm supposed to Behandla it every other day for a week, then every three days for the next week, or something like that. So tonight was Scheduled Stenstorp Behandla-ing Number 2. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to sand it again or not. I did, though, because it was feeling a little rough. Maybe the oil opens up the wood's...pores or something? I don't know. I sanded, and then I put on rather more Behandla than I did last time. This time when I go to wipe off the excess I think there might actually be some excess to wipe off. I have a feeling this is closer to how I'm supposed to do it. I JUST WANT TO PROTECT YOU, STENSTORP.

I must say, the 'Storp looks pretty fine all oiled up and glistening. If butcher-block kitchen islands did porn, the 'Storp would be Ron Jeremy. Or something like that.

I Behandla'd my kitchen floor a little bit by accident. I wiped it up with the same cloth that already had the Behandla on it, which I was aggressively rinsing in hopes that it wouldn't explode SHUT UP THE THING SAID IT COULD EXPLODE. So part of my floor is probably going to be all shiny and fancily oiled. If it doesn't explode.

That, I think, is all I have to say about Behandla. Or Stenstorps. FOR NOW.

This is the best blog ever.

Reading is FUN...again

I forgot to post last night. Whoops! I'll count this as yesterday's.

I requested a book at the library, and yesterday afternoon got an e-mail that it was in. I went to get it and got the same kind of heady excited feeling I used to get as a kid coming home from the library with fresh books to read.

I've been reading more lately. I posted a while back that I was trying to accelerate catching up on all my magazines so I could get back into the habit of reading books. I've sort of done that -- I am definitely better at skimming than I used to be. But I'm still not caught up. So I sort of gave up on being caught up. Instead of a grand plan to get all my magazines read so that after I achieve that mythical goal, I can read a book again, I just...started reading books again.

And it's awesome! Because I love reading books. And I forgot that it's a totally different feeling. When I got my book from the library after work yesterday, I couldn't WAIT to get to the bus so I could crack it open. I read at the bus station, I read on the bus, and I got home and read half the night. (Which is one reason I forgot to write a blog post.)

I'm trying not to overthink stuff. Which is hard for me. And of course I'm overthinking the "Don't overthink stuff!" thing. But, one immediate benefit has been that I've read a bunch of books I've enjoyed. And some I haven't enjoyed that much. Which is also fine! Because everything I read doesn't have to be a masterpiece.

Take my current book, for example. To be honest, it's not that great. It's written sort of amateurishly, to the point where I was wondering if it was a YA book. (Not that that means bad writing; the last book I read was also YA and was quite awesome.) But it's very weird. I kind of don't know how it got published, actually. But the story is compelling. I am not into trashy romance novels or trashy chick-lit novels, but I am way into somewhat trashy vaguely-sci-fi novels about monkey people.

So, it's all good. (Maybe I should end every blog post that way.)

BBL.

My Stenstorp has been Behandla'd!

I finally made it to Ikea and bought Behandla oil. And I just slapped it on the 'Storp. I feel..somehow complete. (Now I have to do it like 70 more times, according to the instructions.) First you sand, then you smear on the Behandla, then let it sit for a while, then wipe off the excess. I don't think I really had much excess, but I did it anyway, because some horror story on those woodworking forums I was reading mentioned having gunky oil buildup. Also, it didn't explode. Yet. I rinsed the rag pretty thoroughly and laid it out to dry on my metal futon frame, so at least if it gets hot it won't set anything but itself on fire. Hopefully.

Also, as you may have noticed, I skipped like a week and a half of blogging there. That's because I went up to Maine for the long weekend, which was awesome but which did not feature Internet access. Then I came home and procrastinated. But I'm back, baby. I didn't blog every day for a month, but I'm going to blog for 30 days, just with a 12-day blank spot in the middle.

Um, so. I'm about to eat some cheese for dinner. That's pretty cool.

Two thoughts

before I go to bed and watch Mad Men even though I frigging have to get up for work tomorrow.

1. Raising Hope is a funny show. It's only been three episodes, but so far, it is a hundred percent good. It's not the FUNNIEST show I've ever seen -- that would be -- OK, I was about to go with 30 Rock, but if I'm honest, I think it's still The Simpsons. 30 Rock has the unfortunate Jane Krakowski factor. It's an uncreative answer but I can't help it. We cannot let these important decisions be dictated by the winds of fashion. Anyway, Raising Hope. Not as funny as The Simpsons. But it's consistently, harmoniously funny. A pitch-perfect mix of sweet and tart. I shall continue to watch it.

2. I was going to go to a lecture on the origins of Chinese writing tonight. I went to dinner with my family instead. I think I made the right choice. (There's still cuneiforms next week, anyway.) Also, on the menu were a bunch of nightly specials. The Thursday one was penne polpette. I was so sad that it wasn't the Wednesday one. I looked at everything on the menu and couldn't stop thinking about meatballs and wishing there was some way I could have them even though they were for Thursday. I looked back at the list of specials -- and I had read it wrong. The meatballs were for Wednesday.

I love when that happens. (They were delicious. And I have leftovers.)

OFFICE!!! PASTRIES!!!

Office pastries. Office pastries office pastries OFFICE PASTRIES MMMMMM MANY SUGARY LEFTOVER PASTRIES. THAT I HAD FOR LUNCH. ALONG WITH SOME LEFTOVER SHRIMP SO I TECHNICALLY HAD PROTEIN. Sooooooo many pastries of different flavors. HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER HYPER.

This should last another half hour or so, and then I'll keel over at my desk.

Which will be when it's time for tea. TEA TEA TEA TEA TEA TEA TEA!

It's a wonder I make it through the day sometimes.

Heat

On Saturday I took my living-room air conditioner out.

On Sunday, I woke up and it was 64 in the house. Hello, fall!

I didn't turn on the heat on Sunday. It seemed too fast. I mean, air conditioner! In my window, the day before! It had been in the high 70s the previous week. Yes, it's technically October, but -- I wore flip-flops to work on Friday!

So I sat under a blanket while I ate my breakfast, I wore a bunch of layers, I took out the window fan in the dining room so I could shut that window. I opened all the shades in hopes the sun would warm up the house. It did, a little, but it was a kind of cloudy day. When I was moving around I was fine. When I wasn't, I'd bust out the blanket. I wore socks.

This morning, I woke up and the house was 63. It's supposed to be cloudy for most of the week, it's not supposed to go above 64 before Friday, and I had to take a shower. So I turned on the heat. I only had it on for about half an hour, and then I turned it back off once the house was comfy.

Why am I rationalizing it? Because I'm a New Englander. And being miserly about the heat is our way. People will get into these contests about how long they can go without turning on the heat. I used to do this too, or at least feel guilty if I didn't get at least past the middle of October without caving.

But then one time I read a Boston.com (really, Globe, but I haven't read a paper Globe in, oh, one million years or so) article about this phenomenon, and in the comments -- always a pleasant garden of courteous, friendly fun, the Boston.com comments -- there were people talking about November, December; about wearing coats inside; about giving their kids a whole bunch of blankets. Someone said he didn't touch the heat until it was below 55 in the house. It was around the time someone mentioned his BABY that I thought, you know what? This is IDIOTIC. Saving money and energy is ALL well and good. But we don't live in treehouses or sheds. I'm not saying we should crank it up to 80 and prance around the house in a bathing suit. But, I'm sorry, I'm not letting the house get down to 55. I'm not wearing a down coat, hat, and mittens inside. I have things to do, man. And I sure as HELL would not let it get that cold if I had a BABY.

Now, I'm not talking about people who can't AFFORD heat and literally have to choose between eating or not wearing outdoor clothes indoors. I'm talking about Yankee cheapskates whose main reason for holding off on the heat is for bragging rights, or to win some made-up competition, like in A Christmas Story when the dad has this ongoing contest with himself for how quickly he can change a tire. I mean, do what you want! But I'm out.

I layer quite a bit in the winter, including scarves if necessary. I'm pretty anal about turning off lights. I recycle. I can get slightly psychotic about reusing napkins and plates (I'm not averse to, if I have a bagel for breakfast, brushing the crumbs off that plate and using it for a sandwich at lunch). I wash my clothes in cold water. The highest I ever turn up the heat is 70, for an hour or so in the morning when I'm getting out of bed; the rest of the time (when I'm home, and awake) it's at 68. And, of course, I save plenty of energy in the summer, since it wouldn't even occur to me to wish for air conditioning until it hits 82 or so. I broke down and bought two window units this summer, as I've mentioned, but I didn't use them all that much. It was a hell of a summer, so I can't say I was sorry to have them, but it's the first year I've really felt I needed them.

See, still justifying. I can't help it. It's in my blood.

Anyway. I turned the heat on this morning. And then I got dressed in contentment instead of feeling like I had to curl up in the fetal position under the blanket when I got out of the shower. It's off now, but if it's freezing in the house when I get home, I might turn it on again. And I might turn it on tomorrow morning too. And if it stays chilly, I might LEAVE it on, EVEN THOUGH it's only early October. Because heat is there to heat you, not to prove what a tough old bastard you are. And I don't like being miserable. Sooooo theeeeere.

Is there anything more delicious

than Cheez-Its? I mean. I made myself a delicious dinner tonight: couscous with pork and onions and squash, and it was super yummy and I even made myself use half whole wheat couscous because I am grudgingly trying to be healthy.

But man, I'm looking at the Cheez-Its and feeling lust in my heart. Even the reduced-fat ones.

Also acceptable: goldfish. What IS it about baked-in cheese?

And yet I don't like asiago cheese bagels. They just gross me out.

Profound thoughts, people. Profound thoughts. Blogging every day for a month. I'm gonna make it.

I cleaned my house today

I hate cleaning the house. But I love HAVING a clean house. Right now I'm sitting in my living room just basking in it. I also put candles on the dining room table, which now looks awesome.

Remember when I said I would never really be a hoarder because I have tipping points when stuff gets too messy? Well, they all tipped today. Too many clothes on the floor, too many dishes, too many catalogs, too many balls of fluff. So I cleaned it all.

It's nice to know the system works.

Catching up on sleep

is not a real thing. Right? You can't go a week of staying up too late and getting up too early, and then sleep for an extra couple of hours on Saturday and it's all magically fixed.

Suuuuuuuure feels good though. Ahhhhhhhh.

Who you gonna call?

David Duchovny, apparently. Had a dream last night that David Duchovny was, basically, a ghost hunter. Not quite a ghostbuster, with proton packs, &c., but his job was to come to a house and basically shoot lightning out of his hands, which would destroy the house but also chase out any ghosts. I think he would also fly through the house while the lightning was shooting out. Surprisingly, this did not, in my dream, have anything to do with The X-Files. It might have had something to do with The Sims though.

So I was like, his wife or something, which was not in the context of sexy tiems, but I had to follow him around and keep his paperwork and shit. I think a lot of the dream was me sitting around waiting for him to finish doing his ghost-zapping thing so we could leave.

But then there was this part where we were on a talk show, and the talk show was hosted by Ryan Seacrest. Three of us were on a couch: ghost-zapping David Duchovny, then me, and then next to me and closest to Seacrest, Joel McHale. With no shirt on. (I did watch Community right before bed last night, though Joel, improbably enough, kept his shirt on during that episode.)

And also Ryan Seacrest, the talk-show host, was partly sunk into the floor. His head, hands and feet were showing. I don't think he was actually dematerialized, but he did look sort of like Mr. Potato Head, with his head right above his feet. I remember feeling annoyed at him that he wouldn't climb all the way up through the floor (which was a pattern of black-and-white squares) to do the talk-show interview. Quit half-assing, Seacrest!

That's it. What it means, I do not know. I'm glad David Duchovny has finally found a way to put those lightning-shooting hands to use, though.