Don't Hate Me Because My Glasses are Beautiful

It's been a very long week. Long month in some ways, but in particular a long week. It ended on a good note, so I have to be pretty pleased about that. I even wore a frilly red dress on Friday to celebrate (accessorized with a ridiculous zip up hoodie to keep from freezing in the office, though). I'm officially buying the house I live in now. I'm supposed to close on August 15th. Now just to go through all my funds and make sure I can cover closing costs and still have some money to burn at the end of the month.

It's starting to sink in that Rich and I are going to Vegas. It's been a year and I miss it so. I want to hang my tits over a craps table, roll tens the hard way and have middle aged men high-five me. And all the better this time is that my puddin' will be high-fiving me after each successful roll. Yes, it will be a fine trip indeed. But until that weekend, I'm sorta just holding out. Work has been sucking up my life. We could have bombed countries off the globe and I would have never known. All I know is ISO protocols and the amps we have running to our new UPS in the server room and how to get partial payments to automatically show up in red on invoices. At least I enjoy that stuff.

I did take a little break today, though. I made all the client changes I needed to early this morning and then headed out to fill my prescriptions and get new glasses. I bought yet another new purse in the quest for "the One True Bag" that is kicky and fun but still holds my journal. I wandered through several Teen Slut Stores in the mall. And I bought Ashleigh Banfield glasses. Although mine are more rounded and multicolored and dare I say it more hipster and sexy.

As for my trashcan, I keep fixating on it. But as soon as I think that I have enough moxy to go retrieve it from his yard and wheel it down the street to my parents' other rental property, I start to feel very tired and not interested in risking a fist fight or chat with a cop at 1am on a "school night" and just go to bed. I think I'm going to make Rich go with me to give me courage and fend off FrankenNeighbor. I just don't trust myself to be calm talking to him about it. I know I would either be a blubbering ball of tears or a flurry of swinging fists and chin-kicking action should FrankenNeighbor question my reassessment of the proper home for said trashcan.