Morning all!

Thanks for letting me whine these last few weeks about my Astronomy class. It ended last night. I did turn in that asssignment - a week late and only 50% complete, but the teacher kept saying he wouldn't deduct for me being late and to turn in what I had...so I did. It almost killed my perfectionist soul.

The big news is that with any luck, Mom should be discharged today.

Man, it's going to be One Of Those Days. I walked into work, chatty!co-worker immediately pissed me off with his condescending metrosexual/dandy/clotheshorse schtick, and I tried to brush it off with a Jane Austen-esque allusion, but he's never read Jane Austen, and didn't know that's what I was doing, so he thought I was attacking him personally, and then he got pissed off at me.

Is it 5:00 yet?

For the record, the conversation of Pissing-Offness went a little something like this:

I walk in the door, see that Chatty and Incompetent!Boss are both wearing brown long-sleeve knit pullover shirts with collars and a button or 2 at the neck.

Me: "You guys! Did you plan this last night?"
Chatty: "Huh?"
Me: "You two are wearing the same shirt."
Incompetent: "Same shirt as what?"
Me: "Huh?"
Incompetent: "What do you mean, we're wearing the same shirt? Same as *what*?"
Me (already frustrated at how ignant he is): "The SAME! The SAME! Your shirts are the SAME!"
Chatty: "No, they aren't."
Me: "Whuzza?"
Chatty, to Incompetent: "Does your shirt have 2 buttons, or 3? Also, is it a heavy knit, or lightweight? Because *mine* is lightweight, with only 2 buttons. Yours looks heavier, with 3 buttons."

At this point I'm irritated that a simple comment noting the similarity of their shirts has been turned into an exercise in making me look like a rube who can't even tell the differences between two CLEARLY VERY DIFFERENT SHIRTS. So, great. I feel like a fucking hick because I didn't notice that Incompetent, sitting 15 feet away, was wearing a heavier-weight shirt.

So I say, trying to joke it off, "I always knew that my inability to identify knit weight would mean I could never find a husband of rank. I guess it's mill-workers for me, or nothing."

Chatty: "Mill workers can't identify knit weight?"
Me: "It doesn't matter if they can or can't; a mill worker still wouldn't be a husband of rank, and it seems I'll never be able to attain such status."
Chatty: "So factory workers are second-class citizens? Nice. *I* used to work in a factory."

[Which made me think, "My MOTHER was a factory...."]

And his offense at my horribly executed riff on Jane Austen finally made me realize he had no idea it was a riff on a fucking book written many years ago when people were more uptight about issues of rank and marriageability and whatnot.

So I explained, and he said, icily, "No. I *didn't* know that's what you were *trying* to do."

So. Gonna be a loooooooooooooong fucking day with the mill worker.

I always forget that Chatty is very very VERY Anya-like in his tendency toward literalness, so OF COURSE he'd point out that their shirts weren't the same. Because I used the word "same," which implies exact copy, or some such bullshit.

I should have said something like "Oh, you two are wearing shirts that are of a similar but not exactly matching color and style, though the fabric weight and number of buttons are very likely not the same. Isn't that funny?"

[Which made me think, "My MOTHER was a factory...."]

You totally shoulda gone this route. Poor Teppy. Ignore the evil people.

I should have said something like "Oh, you two are wearing shirts that are of a similar but not exactly matching color and style, though the fabric weight and number of buttons are very likely not the same. Isn't that funny?"

Oh Teppy. They just sound...well, awful.

I generally *like* Chatty, even though he talks too much, because we tend to geek out over the same things. Or, at least, of the areas where each of us geeks out, there's probably 75% overlap between what he geeks out about and what I geek out about.

But he has a STRONG Anya-literal-pedantic streak that drives me apeshit. Obviously.

Gonna be a loooooooooooooong fucking day with the mill worker.

Heh.

*I* used to work in a factory."

Well, hey! Let's get married, then.

You are making me remember why I quit talking to most of my cow-orkers. Back when I had them.

So my step-mom just wrote me to say that she'd gone to an alumni event at the college where she teaches, and she sat next to L during dinner (he's an alum). L is this guy that I had a huge crush on in high school, went to Homecoming with senior year, and is the only person I've ever met other than my DH that I thought was worth marrying. He did not share my feelings; the Homecoming thing was more because I met his other criteria (didn't go to his school, was known to him, wouldn't expect a relationship, would be comfortable with the group that was going). But since I was neither Hispanic nor Catholic, I was really out of the running for girlfriend status.

That's all interesting history, but not relevant except to say I have all these teenage emotions wrapped up about this guy, but I would never have thought he'd have remembered me, even a year later.

He asked my step-mother about me! It went like "Weren't you dating Raq W's father?" She said they'd gotten married, and he asked if she was still in touch with me and how I was doing, etc. He gave her his email address to give to me.

Weird, huh? Ima gonna write, because I'm friendly that way. He still lives in NM, and in fact designs the haunted house for the city he lives in. (See? Perfect. Except for the still-in-NM part).

You are making me remember why I quit talking to most of my cow-orkers. Back when I had them.

This. Except I still have them. But I don't talk to them, other than telling them not to tamper with my weapons stash.

See, that was the other problem about my job - we couldn't bring weapons onto the premises.

I've never played with an iPod before. I have a mini-iPod at my disposal for the day. So far it has randomly played 1985 for me twice. Hmmmmmmmm.

Timelies! I need some advice from the medicalistas who happen to be around. That or one of the moms. Same dif. ;)

I pulled a muscle in my lower back getting out of the car (never throw your laptop bag over one shoulder and then lean out of the door to get out, baaad move.) I've come home so I don't have to walk around on the hard concrete floors at work. Now, I need to know if I should ice it, since I only did this a couple of hours ago or should I use a heating pad and how long for either of them. I took a couple of ibuprofen pills at work, but they don't really seem to be helping much.