Today is a significant anniversary for my personal life, though less significant as time goes on. I sometimes wish that I could trade this one for a different one that could be remembered with greater fondness and less rue - but you get what you get.
I was home sick from work on Wednesday. It was my first sick day in months, maybe a year. I was feverish, dizzy, and had a very sore throat. My sinuses were clogged and my face felt swollen and heavy. I dozed most of the day, and couldn't do much else beyond simple tasks like watering plants or buffing my nails. Even reading was too complex. I'm somewhat improved since then, but still feeling kind of stuffy. Spring colds are for the birds.
My plants, overall, look pretty good. I have been taking them out of their pots, loosening up the root balls, and giving them fresh soil (and in some cases a larger pot). It's not quite as out of hand as when I lived in the big, showy apartment - the last place before I crashed with my friends in the last state I was in - but there is a strong plant presence here nonetheless. I appreciate the challenge, and the progress, and the sense of responsibility. Maybe that last one most of all; they get me outside myself and demand some accountability in the face of my profound laziness.
As the plants look better, my fingernails look a little worse. All this digging in the dirt is weakening them. I'm trying to keep them protected with gloves and some thickening polish, but it's hard to remember every time. Working with so much paper doesn't make it any easier, of course. I just need to take about six months off to do nothing but sit around and let my fingernails grow strong and healthy.
It's funny to think that my lack of long, decoratively manicured fingernails was actually a named reason in the breakup of a relationship a few years ago. Given the circumstances, my nails were hardly in the public eye; it's not as if he was taking me out on the town or getting our hands photographed for the society page. Even when my nails aren't growing, my hands are not in terribly bad shape, being clean and basically well-groomed. People are funny.
Speaking of that--I made a fascinating tactical miscalculation last week. I casually mentioned the wrong thing (a thoroughly pointless, unrequited, not-even-worth-the-time-it-takes-to-explain-it crush on a coworker who couldn't pick me out of a lineup if his life depended on it) to the wrong people (that is, a whole slew of our colleagues). What I had perceived as an off the cuff, throwaway comment turned into a whole ordeal of unsolicited advice, kindly-meant commentary, and no small amount of grilling as to the identity of the mystery fellow. He will never be revealed. Inadvertently, though, I've discovered that it's just as well, because he's married (but doesn't wear a ring). I managed to call off the hunt toward him, but the hounds have caught the scent and are circling. I'm getting renewed interest in my social life from various sources, including one person who's investing a surprising degree of energy into "finding someone for me." Her first suggestion was not so great (he is both married [though she has reason not to know that] and both vastly older than me and not really in my social circle), and the second suggestion was a little alarming ("Swifty", famed in previous posts, with whom I work quite closely). The third suggestion...well, it's intriguing. We've never actually talked, and there are certain drawbacks (both practical and social), but they are not fatal to the idea. Something that I've got cooking elsewhere may open it up to a greater likelihood of success.
And along that line, I'm in the market for a new computer. My panoply of laptops is becoming obsolete in certain ways, and each of them has issues that make for challenging printing. My goal is to replace the whole kit & caboodle with one brand new one, fully compatible with both the desktop computer and the new printer, to carry me over (in all likelihood) to the next desktop purchase. One of my goals for the weekend is to clear all the old documents and things from at least one of the misfit toys, in preparation to make this happen. Since it's college graduation weekend and Mother's Day (plus recovery from this illness), it's hardly a time to be out and about anyway.
[the title quotation is by Dwight D. Eisenhower]
Is it wrong that I read that as "Swiffy" at first? :-)
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