Today is April 1. That means another notch in the archive belt.
I swear I'm going to stop doing things to my apartment. At least things that cost money 'cause I still have to clean my bedroom and stuff. But I did buy new curtains last night. I also tried to hang my curtain rod using the stone-age hand tool known has the screwdriver. You know, no power tools around here. I believe the use of elbow grease might decrease one's life span. I about lost myself during the endeavor. But everything is stable, awaiting the arrival of the power tool to finish up the job.
That's coming from Randy. They're bringing Victoria over this evening so she can spend the night. It'll be our own little personal celebration of her reaching the first age of double digits. 10. It suddenly seems like a big number when it's the age of my niece.
Oh, I'd just like to make note of my recent insanity. It's official. I've been wound up tighter'en a fiddle the past week or so. I've been jabbering like a mankey (what's up, old school?), and I've been completely absent minded. The past two times I've been to WalMart--that's within the last seventy-two hours, mind you--I've gotten awesome parking spots. You know the ones right after the handicap spots? Yeah, that's where the Buick's ended up. The two times, I parked at opposite entrances. And both times, I exited through the wrong door. When I parked at the grocery side, I came out the, um, non-grocery side. And vice versa. Now, isn't that just the biggest waste of a good parking spot you've ever heard of? I imagine it's close to it.
Alright, think I'm going to turn the ceiling fans off--it's getting chilly--and start working on the bedroom. You know, decorating and even cleaning can become an addiction.