When all is said and done, this has turned out to be a pretty good (working) Spring Break. I still have a bunch left to do, but I did a bunch. And I think the remaining bunch that I need to do will be done by the middle of next week.
And then I'll be welcoming a new member of my little cat-family. I can't wait.
Meanwhile, the house is spotless. I did a spring cleaning, in spite of the prediction of more SNOW. (It's really getting a bit ridiculous, Mother N.) I did the kind of cleaning where you actually look under the couch when you vacuum, to make sure you get all the cat-hair and bits of popcorn.
On a side-note, I think that they should maybe market vacuum cleaners the way they market cat litter, because making one for "multiple cat households" sure would come in handy. (Just sayin'.)
I even swept up a bit in the basement. Basically, I did the stairs and the area around the litter box. I really wish I could motivate myself to do the entire basement, but whenever I start to contemplate it, one of two things happens.
Either I suddenly decide to paint (or in this case, repaint) one of the upstairs rooms of the house, or I assure myself that I will in fact clean the entire basement "on a nice, warm day." I think I have this very unrealistic image of myself opening the walkout and sweeping and singing my way to a cleaner basement. So far, it hasn't happened.
I also caught up on some Jon Stewart today, and chuckled at his riff on Dianne Feinstein and the CIA-Senate surveillance issue. In case you haven't seen it, here 'tis.
Actually, I think Feinstein's reaction isn't all that surprising. In my experience, the people who are more than willing to violate other people's privacy tend to be extremely irate when their own privacy is at stake.
Case in point: I know one person who actually hacked her ex-boyfriend's email for a good six months after they broke up. She checked it every week. Read his emails to and from... whoever. For months on end. Apparently, she saw no problem with doing this.
I found out because, at one point, she (foolishly) mentioned an email of mine (to him). Talk about dumb. At first, I thought he must have shown my email to her. But I thought it was kind of odd, because at the time when I sent it, he and I had talked about that actual email and he had snickered about it.
But then, she made it out like it was so outrageous and upsetting and oh, how COULD you? He was so hurt by it. She indicated how shocking it was that I had actually used "profanity" in it.
Apparently English teachers are never supposed to use profanity. Shit. I guess I never got that particular memo.
When he and I stopped shrieking at each other, we suddenly realized, hey, waitaminnit... and that's how we figured it out. She was in his email, spying on him.
And of course, she's one of the staunch privacy-advocates of the world, looking out for all of our best interests, à la Dianne Feinstein.
All this to say, in my experience, people typically fear that others will do exactly what they themselves either have been doing or will do, given the opportunity.
So, instead of thinking, "Gosh, maybe it's kind of pathetic to snoop around in other people's private stuff, and maybe that makes me look like kind of a major loser with no sense of morals or understanding of the value of trust," they think, "YOU'RE spying on MY stuff!! Don't try to deny it!!!"
Okay. Sure. Whatever. Meanwhile, don't flatter yourself. Your stuff isn't that interesting. Neither was mine. I'm no Dianne Feinstein.
I once told a friend who cautioned me about hackers, "Let 'em look. I'll scare 'em straight. My life really is THAT dull, and I really do write long emails like that about books and cats and knitting and total nonsense. Welcome to my world."
And speaking of that, here's one of my Spring Break projects! I finished part of a sock, and another entire sock, and now I have two more pairs to
I refer to the ones on the left as "scrap socks," because they're made with leftover scraps of yarn. But you'll note, I budgeted the yarn accordingly, to ensure that the socks were the same. And if you think it isn't a major pain in the ass to do something like that, you've clearly never tried it.
The socks on the right don't look all that dazzling because they're actually being wet-blocked. Yes, that's right: I forced them to participate in this little photo-shoot, even though they were soaking wet.
In my defense, I forgot I wanted to photograph them until they were soaking in a sink full of water, and which point I said something like... "Sheeeyooout...".
I'm also about halfway through Sinclair Lewis's Arrowsmith, which is my Classics Club Spin for this month--I'm determined to get it finished on time. And yes, I'm enjoying rereading it, and remembering why it was my favorite Sinclair Lewis novel.
But more on that later. For now, I'm focused on wrapping up another Spring Break.