Never heard of the under-the-pillow thing.

Nor I. I half hope there is a Pajama Fairy that takes them and leaves you a shiny nickel. Um, expect where that would get costly. But, still, Pajama Fairy!

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I can't figure out when to go to bed. I'm half inclined to go right now, even given the 9+ hours I slept last night. If I stay up til 10, I'll be tempted to stay up til 11 to watch Project Runway. I really have to go to work tomorrow. Wah.

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I too am fond of my hoodies.

Of course, I'm fond of all of my not-work wardrobe, which primarily consists of anything that doesn't fit into the We're A Very Serious and Dignified Hospital, Dammit dress code. Happiness for me is coming home and slipping out of the biz cazh and into Things I Can't Wear to Work. Jeans. Hoodies. Stuff like that.

If I had more money, I'd get a separate dressy-but-not-work set of clothes to wear to writers conferences, church Sundays when the choir sings (weeks we don't sing, I wear jeans), and dates to non-denim sorts of places. Because for now I'm wearing the biz cazh and thinking, "Why am I wearing Work Clothes to the Fun?"

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Um, expect where that would get costly.

Yeah, but some weirdos wash them each time.

God, I'm glad today is over. I have been sitting at this desk (and working!) since about 6:45 in the morning.

Head hurts. Tired. Want sleep now.

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I didn't wear a hoodie to work today, because I was already wearing a waffle weave long sleeved shirt with a tight black tee (come to the dark side we have cookies) over it, plus cute devil ankle socks over my black tights, and thus had enough Emo Indy Goth Chick Points for the day.

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I love hoodies. They're comfy.

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You know how I said that this year I was gonna be a grownup about a lot of stuff, including financial? My company is colluding in this. My shameful state of retirement funds (don't ask) is getting automatically upgraded without me doing anything. And now they've made it really easy for me to upgrade even beyond their baseline. I was going to fix it anyway, but now...I don't even have to read 40 odd pages of crap and stupid confusing websites. And I can make up for a lot of years where I fucked myself over. yay.

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did under the pillow as a child, now, often the floor - ftr bkgrnd is poorish farming American with English/Irish heritage.

I am having to figure out salary deductions for medical saving and retirement and MATH IS HARD!

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I think I'm going to find an accountant to do my taxes this year. I didn't use my FSA last year, and with all the dental stuff? Yeesh. But I saved all the statements. (I sadly didn't do it again this year because I am an ass and freaked out trying to figure out what to do and the insurance confused me and I kinda just pulled an ostrich, but will definitely get someone to do 2008's taxes. Because there's going to be a couple $K spent at minimum...)

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I am like Cash, sweats, sloungy bra, tshirt, usually a zip up fleece around the house that I take off when I get into bed. I hang all of them on a hook on the bedroom door. I like them to air out during the day, not that they are smelly.

What do people do about making the bed when you get up? My mother ingrained this airing-out thing in me. I throw the covers off (well, 1/2 way cuz it's just me in the bed) and air it out while I feed the cat, tortoise, putter around, etc. Then I make the bed and put the cat towels down before I leave for work. A. I don't want cat hair in my bed, or dirt, if he's been rolling in something. B. I don't want anything else in my bed either. (The cat door is actually in a custom thingy I made that fits in my bedroom window. Cat jumps on bench outside, comes in the window onto the top of the dirty clothes hamper, then jumps on my bed or the floor. He's been known to bring critters into the house dead, half-dead, and alive. )

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