~ life's too short for the brown water that passes for coffee ~
Not long ago, I received a pay raise at my job and it proved to be much more than I was expecting. I'm not sure how my mathematical abilities (or, lack thereof) continue to fail me, but what has resulted on my paycheck, according to my calculations, is significatly more than the 5% than was promised. At the same time, a lot of funny stuff has been going on with my paychecks for a while - - lots and lots of overtime a while ago, a random payment of "retro" pay that I have no explanation for, and also my having somehow been reduced to a different benefits status in which I was paying about $60 more a month for health insurance (no idea how I failed to catch that one, but I will be receiving a nice check to reimburse) - - so that I actually have no idea what my "normal" pay should be. Also, regarding this unexpected wealth, I am not complaining.
This does mean that, at the moment, I've got a bit more money than I truly know what to do with. For these years since I have graduated from university, I have been living on a tight budget and I have become used to a low cost of living (you know, aside from things like bikes and snowboards that I need) in which I couldn't afford to treat myself (not including sushi once a week and buying fancy yarn and knitting books, as well as going on exciting vacations). Poverty has been my albatross. Anyway, what I'm getting at is that the other week ago, I decided that life is too short to drink the brown water that passes for coffee at my place of employment. As with many things, I am a big snob when it comes to coffee. True, no one seriously LIKES the brown water that they call "coffee" at work, but everyone drinks it, acting as though it's perfectly sensible to begin one's day with a big cup of brown water. Well, I AM NOT A BARBARIAN!!! I am, however, a cheap mofo...and I have spent all these long years in the working world with a big cup of brown water each and every morning. You know what's incredible? The fact that there is a coffee bar at my place of employment in which one can purchase a decent cup of actual coffee. I've never gone there much because of the whole "purchasing" factor (see above, re: cheap mofo) but now that I have all of this newfound wealth, I have been waltzing over to the coffee bar every morning and purchasing for myself a coffee. It has been a wonderful experience. Yesterday, however, I did not have any cash dollars for coffee so I decided to be satisfied with the free work brown water coffee. And I took one sip of it, and poured it down the drain. I have realized that it's better to have no coffee than to have the brown water that passes for coffee.
In other extremely insightful and stimulating news, I have not been very responsible in the way of applying sunscreen to my person. This has resulted in my being much more tan than I would prefer. Additionally, the tan is not uniform across my person. It, the tan, coincides with those areas of skin which have been exposed to the sun (for more information on the tanning process, click here), which implies that those areas not exposed to the sun (presumably the areas covered with what is known as "clothing") are as white as freshly plopped snow. This weekend, I will be wearing a gown which is a different shape and fit than anything that I ever wear (what with the halter and open back), and it, the gown, will expose some of the more drastic tan lines on my person. Now, understand that gowns (especially of the open-backed variety) are the sort of thing that one wears to fancy and formal events. Please feel free to assume that I expect to feel ridiculous at attending a fancy and formal event with my drastic tan lines in plain sight. I anticipate mollifying my feelings of awkwardness and embarassment with several glasses of champagne.
Now, you ask, what could Jennifer write about that would be even more exciting and interesting than coffee and tan lines?
Perhaps my recent whim to get a cat. A while ago, I was walking around in the neighborhoods, and I encountered this cat that I really liked. I stopped for a while to pet it... it's soft fur (the grey was almost blue), the purring, the way that it would walk around me in circles, it's tail sweeping around my legs...it took quite a bit of self-restraint for me to not steal off with the cat right then and there. Since then, I continue to reflect on what a nice and sweet cat it was. Of course, as with most things that involve responsibility and commitment, I waffle. The concept of having cat hair embedded into every piece of clothing and furniture I own as well as the whole "litterbox" phenomenon casts a shadow upon an otherwise sunshiney dream. At any rate, a dream it will remain, as there are no pets allowed in my place of residence.