Andare, Partire, Tornare

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Puppy-sitting and random bitching

Dog (and cat) sitting for Cherbear's mom and stepdad, which means that not only do I get a loaner dog, but I get to hang out at their truly adorable little house. It manages to strike the right balance between homey and well-decorated, which is a difficult balance to master (regard Bemo's stepmom's house, straight out of Southern Living. A beautiful house, but not always a comfortable one). The only problem is my commute, which is rather a pain in the ass from here, as I don't have my usual slug line to rely on. I'm far, far closer to the city in actual mileage, but it took me an extra forty-five minutes to get into work today.

This whole buisness with moving our stuff out of Bemo's mom's basement, so that Bemo's hostile and antisocial brother can move in, is truly a pain in the ass. It has to be done by this Friday, because he's being kicked out of his place, and we had zero warning about it. He told Bemo's mother that "anything left in the basement gets tossed out the back door," to which Bemo's most excellent mother replied, "I don't *think* so, bud." Asshole. I am just fed to the teeth with him and FuckingDivaSister. Makes me want to just backhand them, scream, "Get the fuck over it," and then go away, never to see them again.

But anyway.

I have started the project from hell. You thought 230 snuffboxes were bad? Ain't no such thing, honey. Reorganizing the slide library. Now *that* is the project which will send me to my grave, babbling of green fields and trying to tell everybody that I'm Napoleon. I have to walk a fine line between actually getting the thing organized, while not pissing off any of the curators by throwing out some of their precious slides that they never use but want to cling to, while at the same time trying to maintain a point where I can stop at any time incase the window project begins again. Remind me why I wanted to work for a registrar's office, again? It's all about organization, and that's something I'm profoundly lacking. Oh, yeah...I get to play with the art. Which reminds me, I'm thinking of starting a diaryring for museum people. Hell, if there's one for Altoids, or for anorexia, or for Gemini's, I figure mine isn't such a bad idea.

7:28 p.m. - 2002-08-06

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