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I’m in a bad mood today. While I don’t have one specific reason, I have dozens that would suffice. Though for the sake of your sanity, I’ll list the top four.

Winter: I’m so over it! I’m sick of being cold; I’m tired of wet shoes and pants; I’m annoyed there is no decent parking because of snow drifts the size of my car.

Construction: The office suite next to mine has been in a state of construction for what feels like an eternity. It’s loud; It’s distracting; It’s dirty; It’s loud; I can’t walk down the hall without having someone in my way and also being in their way; Oh, and it’s LOUD!

Burns: I have a burn on my hand from attempting to make bread pudding. DISASTER! This was over a week ago and the burn is only getting worse. And yes, I’m applying Neosporin ALL THE TIME, but it’s still getting worse. I suspect I contracted a flesh eating disease from either a) the construction disaster or b) God.

Math class: Really, do I need to explain this? The fact I can’t log into the class because I own a Mac computer. How can an institution of higher education not have a system in place for both a Mac and PC. Totally and completely fucking insane. I can say fuck, I’m in a bad mood. In fact, I can yell it loudly, but you wouldn’t hear me because of the construction.

And yes, Mom, I know you raised me better, but frankly fuck being raised better.

For the past couple of days I’ve been searching for the Netflix movie I need to return with no luck. I gave up and emailed them to see what the cost for replacement would be. In a bad mood I went to the fridge for treats and instead found this:

“Arlo, will you sit there? I don’t want to sit by a stranger.”

“Sarah, that’s not a stranger that’s Ross. He’s with us.”

“He is? I don’t know him.”

“Yeah, you do. You’ve met him a couple of times.”

“Ohhh, was he the one dressed like a woman for Halloween?”

“Yes… a geisha.”

“Okay, then I definitely don’t want to sit by him.”

My first Sundance movie is tonight. Let the festival begin!

I just hope Arlo doesn’t let me fall if/when I slip on the ice this year. Last year when it happened I was nice about it. This year that won’t be happening.

I’ll punch him.

Hard.

Working full-time, going to school full-time and making time to watch Snoop Dogg’s Father Hood doesn’t leave me with a whole lot of free time. Fitting in daily tasks such as grocery shopping, sleeping and working out has been a challenge.

Yesterday, while lunching with a co-worker, we decided to try and fit in a liquor store run. The weekend is nearly upon us and I was completely out of wine. Unacceptable. The trip was a complete success; my favorite Shiraz was on sale. Getting into his car to head back to work I heard my mother’s nagging “Buckle-up, Sarah, safety first.” So I did.

A couple of blocks from the office a SUV next to us forgot to check lanes before moving over. (Is it really that difficult?) The vehicle nearly hit us and it was that moment I realized I’d buckled the wrong seat belt.

I use Google Reader for my RSS feeds, so rarely use the live bookmarks I set up ages ago. Last night, however, I wanted to check my email quickly while reading CNN, so I clicked it. In Google Reader I tend to focus on who sent the email, not the subject line. After seeing these, I realize, that is totally unacceptable. I miss out on Lamanite drinking and naughty Santa games.

The building manager must read my blog. That’s the only explanation I can come up with for this heat I feel coming from the vents.

After a month of complaining and one day of blog bitching, it’s finally fixed. Which really makes me regret the three pairs of socks I’m wearing, and the triple dose of cold medicine I took in expectation of ending up ill.

It’s probably short-lived, but I plan to enjoy every second of it. Sweet, sweet heat, how I love thee.

The building manager of my office is a heat Nazi. I’m a wuss when it comes to the cold, but when even my clients are complaining, there’s definitely a problem. When asked today why the AC was on he replied, “That it is warm and sunny outside.” BASTARD!

Sarah: “Hey, I’m going to meet the punk rock kids at the bar to watch the Patriots game. Do you want to come?”

Ben: “I can’t, I’m watching Silence of the Lambs and the game here.”

Sarah: “Um, why?”

Ben: “I’m comparing the two. Hannibal Lecter and the Patriots have lots in common. Hannibal likes to tease his victims and take his time, just like the Patriots.”

Sarah: “I’ll never understand why girls like you. I know you’re a cool guy, but you probably come off as the skin-suit kind of guy.”

Ben: “Chicks dig the mullet.”

This year for Christmas I gave myself this blanket from Restoration Hardware. It’s quite possibly the best blanket in the entire world. I’ve never had a blanket so soft. I’m positive I’m snuggling under the skinned carcasses of teddy bears. I’m from the country, I’m down with dead animals touching me. As long as they stay away from my digestive system I’m good.

The description on the website says this blanket is “generously sized for cuddling.” Which is a big fat marketing lie. I’m not a large girl and there is no way I could fit another person comfortably under this thing. I am selfish with my blankets and like to be covered head to toe before allowing my blanket to tough another individual. Any individual, even a dog.

Daisy seems to think just because she is the same color as the blanket, I won’t notice her hair all over it. Once I caught her laying on the blanket, I moved it to where she couldn’t reach it while I’m gone. This afternoon when I got home she had found the blanket and was sound asleep on it.

Needless to say, I was pissed. This one-eyed dog who can’t manage to pour me a glass of wine or anything useful, can find a well-hidden blanket. Dogs would do anything for a good nap, which is way more than even Ben would do for comfort. Unless the blanket smelled like bacon.