Mamarati

My head is killing me.

And Missy is laying under my feet like she wants something.

Which would require me getting up.

And I’m hot.

And bitchy.

Why suddenly I’m bitchy?

I guess it’s the head thing. I know I should be going to bed. Morning comes earlier and earlier around here.

In other news, this weekend was a fest of shopping somewhat.

Domestica and all. Lowe’s. The boyfriend got all handy-dandy and put a shelf up in the laundry room and installed a new digital thermostat to replace the oh-so-dangerous mercury filled one. You know, it was one of those where if you stomped hard enough or slammed a door it would turn on the heat…

He also got a new shovel to replace the one he broke. He was out digging up a bit of the third of an acre for a wildflower patch and broke it right in half.

Very manly, I assure you.

I got a bunch of seeds and a seed-starter kit… and it had these little peat pellets that expand when you water them…

I planted jalapenos, red hot pokers, echinacea, snapdragons, cilantro, white daisies and basil…

So far… those things are pretty cool, so I may go get another tray of them.

We went driving around and looking at cool old houses and then found a Cafe Express. Had never eaten there, but remember reading about it one time and wanting to. It was good. All fresh and tasty and the little condiment bar thing had olives and Parmesan and sun-dried tomatoes and good breadsticks… all kinds of flavored olive oils and such.

We also went to the dollar store and got a pore sucker and some other crap.

The pore sucker didn’t work, but it looks and sounds menacing enough. The cat’s scared of it.

My head hurts too bad to continue. I need to lay. rest. relax. sleep.