Sorting, sorting, sorting

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While the Puddin' has been away, I've been taking this opportunity to do some sorting of various crap around the house. Recently, this has involved vacuuming the living room (including the sofa) and spreading a box of papers out to sort into recycle, shred or file-worthy piles. I've learned a few things over the past few days ...

  • At some point in my life I thought "keeping important papers" meant keeping everything. This includes restaurant receipts from 2002.
  • Restaurant receipts from three years ago, particularly those on thermal paper, are completely illegible and worthless.
  • I get more angry at mail sent to Jeni, Jeanie, Geniveive, Genny, or Jamie (?!) than at mail addressed to my previous married name.
  • Most of my utilities are in my previous married name (and some are also to Jeni as well for good measure).

So I'm making a lot of progress on that front but not so much on the writing. I'm sorta okay with this in the short term as I'm still recovering from being sick and generally trying to do whatever I can to distract myself from the fact I miss the Puddin'. I'm hoping my voice will be back to podcasting quality in a few days as I've got a lot about which to ramble. But for now I think I'll go back to sorting papers in the floor and watching so many episodes of Law & Order they become one giant case about wife-abusing diamond smugglers who kidnap children to peddle their estates.

Word Count and Voice Count

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So my NaNoWriMo word count to date? Zero. It's not been a good few days for me in the writing scene. I managed to get a cold on the evening of Halloween and it has escalated to losing my voice. So I can't even podcast about how everything I type should be working towards my Greatest American Novel. The month is still young, though, and even if I only write a few thousand words it will be more than I wrote last November or any November before that. Ever the optimist! Rich is still gone and that still sucks. I did get flowers from his company, though, today. The card on it said "Genie Puck-Eater" (Rich's last name), which I found odd. And the inside said, "Thank you for allowing Richard time away from his family to help storm victims in their time of need. Your willingness to share him is greatly appreciated." So then I replaced my confusion over gaining the Puddin's last name with amazement that they spelled my name correctly.

Ms. Kitterson had a big outside adventure tonight. Daddy came over this afternoon to put the dog out and installed a neato timer switch for my front porch. This allows me to not have to leave my front porch light on all day but still come home to a well lit front door that evening. It rocks and it was $5.88 from Big Lots. Dad rocks. But I think during installation, Emily snuck out. When I came home and was standing in the foyer marvelling at the wonders of timer technology I heard this pitiful cry of a kitten in distress. I first thought she had gotten trapped in the coat closet, but when I opened the front door she bolted inside. Her few hours of freedom have merited oil on her left back paw and a filthy belly. Her beautiful white fur is a bit on the grey side now. If she doesn't clean herself up by Saturday, it may be bathtime for Bonzo. In the meantime, I treated both her and Ms. Kitty to Fancy Feast to celebrate being indoor cats.

Off to bed and hope that by morning I no longer sound like a truckstop waitress or have lost my voice completely. Although, if I can't talk, it's all the more excuse to type and there lies my motivation for novelling.