Things are getting away from me lately. I don�t know if it has something to do with being unemployed or what; I make a mental list of to-dos for the day and then wind up only reading or watching an episode of Buffy or Friends on dvd for the umpteenth time. In an effort to outsmart myself I began committing my tasks to paper only to find I was checking off one or two then transferring the remainders to the next list. Things were going weeks without attention.

Like this journal. I tell myself, no lie, every day that I should fire up Word and get an entry started. Then the dog barks or the phone rings and poof! it�s gone. I�m finding the same problem with the Laundry task lately. The situation will become dire very soon if I continue to ignore that particular item. I mean, I realize I own 31 pair of under things, but I rarely push to the edge of the envelope in such an impudent manner.

A person as anal as I am quickly becomes uncomfortable under these circumstances. Yet when I have nowhere to go in the morning, �scheduling� becomes impossible. Breakfast Television turns into Regis and Kelly, which turns into DVDs that segues into crocheting and chat. Then I check out soccernet.com and CNN, have a bite of lunch, play with the dog and make a batch of doggie cookies. Before you know it, The Boy heads in the front door and I haven�t thought about dinner. Laundry remains undone and I haven�t even gotten around to playing Bookworm once that day. Wow, I didn�t realize just how hedonistic my days had become until I actually sat down and typed them out. I vow to you, dear reader that I shall work on rectifying my slothful tendencies.

I just got off the phone with my caseworker: I�m ready for insemination. (I�ve been sitting here reading that sentence and it just sounds gross in my head. Oh, yours too? Sorry.) My levels are good (don�t worry that I feel bitchy and want to kill), I have three follicles of acceptable size and my body hasn�t closed its ovulation window just yet. So, The Boy is on deck for his 0800 appointment with the good porn tomorrow. I follow at 1000 for My Date with the Turkey Baster. So around 1020, everyone think back to the opening scene of Look Who�s Talking, okay? Thanks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Last Saturday, I spent most of the day with the lovely wipeout. We met up at the Duke of York, a wonderful pub near the U of Toronto to bid a temporary farewell to blaugirl as she returns to her hometown for a few weeks before winging it back across the pond to finish her schooling. We settled into the comfy chairs in the corner by the patio, snarked a little, ate a little, told some stories and laughed and laughed. Kick some ass over there, girlfriend.

Wipeout and I then headed for the subway station at the beginning of what can only be described as a death march. (Kidding). She is certainly one for walking, which ordinarily is fine with me. Except that morning I had luxuriated in my quarterly Half Day with Dale consisting of a YonKa facial, mani and pedi. I drove from London to Toronto barefoot (don�t mind me, officer!), then begrudgingly put on my sandals for the rest of the day. My tender Winter Feet began to protest almost immediately and by 7:40 p.m. were howling. I got home at 10:30, put off bedtime and grabbed The Boy�s footbath and some Epsom salts; I can�t believe my surprised yelps due to the stinging didn�t wake anyone in the house! Three more footbaths and a tube of Polysporin (Triple Healing!) later and I�m almost certain not to scar. (Whee!) I must say I loved The Beaches the most and can�t wait to go back and hand out doggie samples to all the lovely pet owners.

I had an appointment today with the local Humane Society. They (might) want to buy a version of my cookies for their Winter Goodie Drive; upwards of 10,000 of the little suckers, if you can imagine that. The down side is they�re basically poor and can only afford to pay so much, but it�s still good business to get your foot in the door. Next year when I am a financially viable company I plan to sponsor a portion of that drive.

So, now I�m off to do laundry. No, really.

Posted at 3:02 p.m.