EvilJulie.com

For the first time in I have no idea how long, my home office space doesn’t look like a trash heap. It took all weekend to get to that point, but it was totally worth it. See, I hate filing, and it didn’t help that I hadn’t updated my filing system since 1999. So rather than filing, I was putting all paid bills, taxes, etc., into an inbox of sorts. I had been doing that since I moved into my old basement apartment four years ago. This weekend, in an attempt to “red up” in case I do start freelance grant writing and actually need a functional office, I went on an office decluttering mission.

I went through everything in the inbox and shredded all bills over a year old. I got rid of crap that I didn’t need. I went through my filing cabinet and did the same (which meant I got rid of virtually everything since I hadn’t filed anything in there in four years), got rid of all the stuff left over from grad school that I didn’t need anymore, and generally reclaimed the space. The shredder broke halfway through this (it was old and sad and had done well in its time), so I manually shredded for three hours. But it is effectively done – all that’s left is the filing of things from the past year (a very small pile), and cleaning out the cart beside my desk that houses all my old computer programs. Now I want to buy some organizational stuff and a replacement shredder (tax write-offs, my accountant tells me), and the office will be an actual office instead of just “that paper-strewn place over in the corner where I play on the internet.” Yay!

Now I just have to call the artistic director at the theater and talk to her about the grant writing. Cross your fingers, people.

Yesterday I was eating a Fun Size Milky Way and noticed a little disclaimer on the wrapper: “May contain nuts.” Wouldn’t that make it a Snickers bar?

Several weeks ago I bit down on a popcorn kernel. Hard. I thought I had done something to the big ass filling that Skippy put in the tooth (the one that was nearly a root canal), but wasn’t sure. It didn’t look any different, but maybe it felt different? Since I wasn’t sure, I adopted a wait and see attitude.

Well, last week I was in a bit of pain and couldn’t decide if it was from a possible cracked filling or from my job which is so stressful it makes me grit my teeth all day and makes my TMJ act up. I thought about it, thought about how I was going to be in Florida in a little over a week and a half and thought “Hmmm, if this sucker is going to break off, I would really rather it didn’t do that in Florida when I am many miles from a dentist who takes my insurance.” So I made an appointment with Skippy.

Long story short, there was no crack in the cavity, it’s fine, and Skippy sent me home with no bill and a story about the time when he was photographing a hockey game at the Garden and Bobby Orr took a stick to his hand. And this is why I like Skippy. I hate being in the chair, but he tells me entertaining stories to help me get over my dread of it. I have come out of that chair hearing about dental technology developed during the Vietnam war, and his daughter’s Portuguese in-laws, and now a story about why you should never ever cheer for the other team when you’re in the photographers’ pit and Bobby Orr has his eye on you. Bet your dentist hasn’t given you that.

I do not suffer fools gladly. In fact, I don’t suffer fools at all – my tendency is to either reach out and slap them upside the head (which I’m not allowed to do at my job) or to get progressively more irritated as the day goes on.

No wonder Zuul resides in my stomach.

Today has been a banner day for fools and idiocy in my little corner of the world. I’m beginning to seriously ponder if “hermit” constitutes a valid career choice. Hermits don’t have to deal with idiots. They just live in their caves and ignore everyone. But I don’t think hermits are so keen on the tech, so that won’t work for me. Is piracy still valid? I could handle being a pirate. Pirates would like tech. And I could work drunk on rum, which would make handling fools easier. And if I didn’t like them, I could run them through with my cutlass. And I could have a pet monkey.

Piracy…why did it ever go out of style?

What the hell is this, exactly?

Is it a monkey? Is it a hedgehog? Is it a gnome? These are the things that keep me awake at night.