I was so busy being bitter I missed my turn.

Sunday afternoon post-nap thoughts

- Still want to kill the man upstairs. Just when it quiets down, bam. He's loud again.

- The movie Henry Poole is Here is really good. I didn't pay enough attention to it, so I'll probably need to see it again. And get the soundtrack.

- I really do love Luke Wilson. Even in his bad movies.

- I really do enjoy cooking my own meals, as opposed to going out to eat. I should do it so much more often than I do.

- I shouldn't be looking forward to the Hallmark Hall of Fame movie on CBS tonight quite as much as I am.

- Opening my bedroom door to a clean apartment this morning was more wonderful than I anticipated, since I'd completely forgotten overnight that I cleaned it.

- Who knew that Blockbuster on Sunday night would be such a frustrating place?

- Last night I had many bizarre dreams, which led to an especially good nap today.

- I'm not sure why, but I'm really annoyed that ABC Family cancelled all of today's programming for a 700 Club telethon. It really bothers me.

- It's going to be a busy week. Unless I go to jail for killing the man upstairs. Then I'm going to have some time on my hands.

- I probably shouldn't joke about killing the man upstairs, in case he actually dies and I am considered a prime suspect. I do think I am too much of a sissy to be incarcerated. I don't see it going well.

They try to make me go to rehab, I say no, no, no...

If I were a celebrity, the tabloids would be on fire. One of my reps would have released a statement today that I voluntarily checked myself into a treatment facility (named something like "Tranquility" or "Serenity," located somewhere like Santa Monica or Colorado) due to exhaustion.

US Weekly would probably report that I was receiving treatment for substance abuse, namely my cocaine habit. Lifestyle would report that I was suffering from some kind of eating disorder related to Hollywood's questioning how thin I was (hey...if I'm a celebrity, I'm gonna be a skinny celebrity). And OK! magazine would have the exclusive from a "source close to me" that I was hiding out after word leaked that I was both suicidal and having James McAvoy's love child. Oh, and the National Enquirer would be reporting that it was not actually me, since I was abducted by aliens a few months back.

But, since I'm not a celebrity, I'm simply exhausted from a long short-week of work and wrangling twenty-one fourth graders, and one big snowball fight. So, for my wild evening out, I returned a couple of videos and picked up a pizza on my way home. I came home and hit the bed with the laptop, so I could catch up on whatever episodes I could find online of shows like Pushing Daisies and Bones. And the Office. That I haven't watched in weeks.

But if OK magazine wants to report that I'm having James McAvoy's love child, well...I wouldn't mind proving them right.

We have to go back, Kate! We have to go back!

It's time once again for my brain to begin hurting. But in a good way, of course. Yes, Lost begins again tonight!

I need to know what happened after the Island moved. Or, for that matter, how the hell the island moved in the first place.

I need to know what happened when they all got to civilization

I need to know why and how Ben, and for that matter Locke, got back to America.

I need to hear Sawyer's lovely nicknames for people.

I need to see Jack without his shirt on. (Just sayin's all.)

I need to find out what Sawyer asked Kate to do that tore her and Jack apart.

I have two hours and a glass of wine to find out. And I know not all, if any, of those answers will be found tonight.

And most of all, I need to say "Bad Wobot" to the tv when it's all over.

P.S. Tomorrow night is when I meet the boy. Lord help us all and watch for an update.

An Historic Day- for two reasons

Is anyone else bothered by the grammatical rule that puts "an" before Historic instead of "a"? No? Just me the Grammar Snob?

Anywho. Yes, today was the day that we inaugurated an African-American president. It was also the day that yours truly made a dinner that turned out exactly like it was supposed to, from start to finish. I will show you pictures and tell you how I did it, because I do think I am the Pioneer Woman.

Stuffed Cube Steak:

1/3 c. butter1/2 (8 oz.) pkg. herb seasoned stuffing (2 c.)4 beef cubed steaks (about 1 lb.)2 tbsp. salad oil1 (1 oz.) env. burgundy wine sauce mix or 1 (1 1/2 oz.) env. mushroom gravy mix

Step One: Gather all supplies. Wait a minute... How did that box of magic bars mix get in there? I'll have to discuss that with Daisy...

Step Two and Three: bring water and butter to a boil in a saucepan. Add stuffing.

Step Four: Put stuffing mixture on cube steak and roll up like a jelly roll. Secure with a toothpick:

Don't even ask me what I had to do to get ahold of the toothpicks.

Step Five: In oil, brown cube all sides of cube steak.

Step Six: Add gravy packet and water. I used peppercorn brown gravy mix. Oh my Yummy!

Step Seven: Cover and let cook for 30 minutes. If you have a very fancy Paula Deen skillet, that didn't come with a cover, just use a platter. It works just the same. But when you go to remove it to stir, use potholders. Trust me. It will burn your fingers if you don't.

Step Eight: While you're waiting, go ahead and uncork a bottle of wine. Just be careful not to take your own eye out, like I almost did. Just passin' on the knowledge my friend.

Finally, put them on a plate, scoop up some y-to the-ummy gravy on it, and eat. Oh my Lawsie. Good stuff my friend. Wow.

When the medicine wears off...

My posts have been very verbose lately. That means I talk too much. So I thought tonight I'd leave you with a little visual stimulation instead. That, and the fact that schoolwork today has made me want to poke my eyeballs out, so I'm really not in the mood to chat.

One of the main reasons I initially begun treatment for my adhd was the amount of things I had broken in a short period of time. When my medicine wears off, the breaking still happens:

Here is the glass top next to my nightstand. I was putting something away and smashed it right into the glass top. Time to go to Target.

This is the mosaic hurricane that I love. But now it's cracked and barely holding itself together. I'm going to save it for some other mosaic I'm sure I'll do. Stop laughing.

And this is the mountain dew that I got at the store this evening, but paid no attention to how I loaded it in the car. Which is why the package burst open on a particularly sharp curve. And why I've only been able to recover 11 of the cans.

It's a wonder I haven't broken my neck.

A Long Weekend

We have a four-day weekend. A much-needed four-day weekend. On Friday, I was able to go to school and get grades in, as well as head to the movies with a friend. Saturday, I got to sleep, not work on school, only work on the yearbook for a few minutes, and take meals to the cutest mommy in the world, getting to hold her baby, my new love.

Today, I got to go up to school and conquer my fear of our school alarm, and got to grab all of my yearbook stuff and make the copies I need for the next week. Except math. I'm just now realizing I didn't make math copies. Must do that tomorrow.

So, I've worked every day of my four-day weekend (because I'll be working all day tomorrow), but it's still been very restful. I needed four days away from students to get things done on my time. Like working on yearbook stuff at 9:45 in the evening.

Oh, and boys do not look cute in their little football pants with a tee-shirt on top. It is apparently an ensemble, so the pants should only be worn with the jersey.

And who really watches those Saw movies?

I guess normalcy isn't really our style.

Random bits of my life today:

- My friend's baby has been out of her for four days, and I've seen him and held him and whispered blessings in his baby ears for three of those four days. And I know his parents are going above and beyond me in the whispering blessings in his ears.

- I could listen to Ben Folds and Regina Spektor sing a duet forever.

- I had every intention of working on my school project all day, but that did not happen. School was closed, I was lazy and I had the odd experience of my entire body shutting down and telling me that sleep would be occurring immediately. It was bizarre. But the sleep was goooood.

- The guy has had my phone number for a couple of days and hasn't called. Seriously. Patience is not my strong suit.

- Long necklaces are not for me. I have owned one and borrowed one and broken them both.

- One of the teenagers that went with me on one of my first Mexico trips took the wrong, wide road, and has just recently recovered and is walking down the narrow road again...and it's so very good to have him back.

- I have to get up early in the morning and should probably call it a night.

Underwater Adventures

So, wow. No internet again. This stinks. Of course, this also means the dishes might get washed, and I may tackle a few creative projects. Who knows? Actually, judging by the last time this happened, the internet may be up and running again soon, so they may not get done after all.
*Oh, internet, you little minx. Just as I was turning my music off to go to bed I noticed you are back up. You sly fox...determined to keep me up past my bedtime.

Incidentally, the names of my neighbor’s internet accesses are (among others):
- viper
- pimpmasterflex
- princess
- paingain
- franksnetworkyo!

So, let’s discuss my little underwater adventure tonight. I used to be a swimmer in high school, and my workout of choice is swimming laps. It’s very low-impact and high-aerobic. So I can get an aerobic workout without making a fool of myself in step class. Why would I want to do that when I can make a fool out of myself in a swimsuit?!

I went to the pool tonight, and swam a 200, a 100 kick, a 200, a 100 kick, and a final 200. Sounds mighty impressive, doesn’t it? AND, I did it all in 20 minutes. I am something else, aren’t I?

Well, here’s pretty much how it went down:
Get in pool. Discover that I have to share a lane with another swimmer. A boy swimmer. Eeew. Yuck. Pout.
Swim 50 (there and back)
Re-adjust goggles
Swim 50
Take a water break.
Boy gets out of pool and goes home. I must’ve made quite an impression.
Swim 50
Fix cap that came off mid-pool.
Swim 50
Take off cap and grab kickboard.

Now, that was just the first 200. The rest were equally as productive. At no point did I swim more than there and back without stopping and asking myself what in the sam hell I was doing trying to exercise in the first place. I can’t even spell exercise without spell check making me try three times.

I will say it felt good to be in the water again. Water has always been like a second skin to me. Unless it gets in my shoes, in which case I’m a whiny mess. Us Pisces are like that. And I would go back again tomorrow night, but I’m hanging out with my favorite six-year-old, and I’m pretty sure there’s some Uno-playing in my future. And my body needs a break, anyways. This is the hardest I’ve made it work since I walked up a volcano (you know, for the ten minutes I made it walk until the poor Guatemalan boy felt sorry for me and brought me a horse).

I lost my knife, but I found my sunglasses.

I am beginning to think that I should retitle this blog "but I found my sunglasses." I had a plastic knife for my bagel this morning, but it slid off the car seat as I turned into a parking spot. I reached down to find it (which I never did) and pulled out my sunglasses. The sunglasses that I thought were somewhere else. Huh.

In other news, my guitar teacher, on whom I've had a secret crush, brought a girlfriend to church today. So, as much as I'm a little disappointed that he's got a girlfriend, she treated him very sweetly, so I don't mind it that much.

I went to my Sunday lunch today, and the manager and I had such a lovely conversation. It is so nice to talk to a grown-up guy. Not still in school, not still trying to figure out what to do with life. Not teaching in any way. Just a guy. It's really nice.

And finally, can I tell you what a silly little sense of accomplishment I get from shredding my old documents? I purged my files about a year and a half ago, and I haven't done anything with them but put them in a box, which I moved here and there. I'm finally shredding it. Such a sense of accomplishment.

Oh, and I still haven't found the dvd remote control.

And She Was

I was going to write a funny post about ice falling on my car.

I was going to cook myself dinner with enough leftover for lunch tomorrow.

I was going to keep my email up and running in case I had any parent questions before swimming tomorrow.

I was going to do a load of laundry while I watched tv.

I was going to upload all of the pictures I took today.

I was going to clean the mud off my sneakers and throw my pants in the wash.

But I was outside in the freezing cold hiking for two hours, and my head hurts and my neck hurts and some of my inner parts have not warmed up yet. So I'm going to get ready for tomorrow and then curl up under the covers and call it a night. Yes, I realize what time it is. All the better.

And Daisy? She's one step ahead of me. Already under the covers.

Miscellaneous thoughts before I head back to work...

I have to go back to work tomorrow. I'm so excited I can barely contain myself. *Please note that the last sentence is dripping with sarcasm.*


Yesterday, it was 79 degrees. Tomorrow it will be 39. As the high.


Oh, yes, I also have to go to a training tomorrow after school. An outdoor training. As in, outdoors in the frigid weather. I'm actually taking a pair of long johns and thicker socks and my new wellies to change into after school.


Have you ever noticed that when it's cold outside, people turn up the heat indoors so that if you dress warmly for the weather outside, it's too hot once you get inside? My classroom is like that. From day one I've told people we have two settings: freezing and sweating. If I want to change the temperature, I have to be very careful. I can't slide the switch up and down. I have to nudge it. Very gently. And ask it nicely to be warmer/colder. And do the hokey pokey and turn myself around.


This next week, we have a crazy schedule due to something the district makes us do: swimming. All fourth graders in the district are taken to the (indoor) swimming pool for three days and taught swimming. I still don't necessarily understand it, other than that next week, I'll have various kids gone at various times during the day, and then I'll take all of them to the pool for one hour a day, and here's the kicker: because of this wacky scheduling, on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, I have not one moment away from kids. No break. Because of the time I'm taking them, I get no lunch off, no recess time off, no morning planning period. At any given point during the day, I'll have at least 8 of my kids with me. If this were any other time of the year, I'd be saying "hello, video..." but since I've been away from them for two weeks, I'm sure we'll just sit and chat and throw in some math for fun.


In doing my Project 365, I've discovered that I'm really bad at photography. And photoshop. I've got my work cut out for me. While I really wanted to jump into it head-first and have everything perfected by day four or five, I understand that won't happen. I've got some reading to do ahead of time, and learning about the settings on my camera. Luckily, I've found a site that explains everything and then some and I should be able to improve just a little.


Okay, I've been wordy enough today. On Tuesday or Wednesday I'm going to start reading my very favorite book in the whole world to my kids. They're finally old enough to handle it, I think. I'm rereading it now and it just makes me so happy. That and the blanket and Shih Tzu curled up on my feet. Ah, the small joys...

Oh, and P.S. If there's nothing else on tv, I could watch Independence Day with Will Smith all the time, especially since it seems it's on almost all the time.

How I could just kill a man...

My upstairs neighbor is going to be the death of me. Meaning, I'm going to snap and go upstairs and kill him and then be convicted of capitol murder, probably pre-meditated since I've written about it here, and then they'll send me to the chair. And not the sweet rocking one.

He (I'm assuming it's a he because no woman would make that much noise) makes so much noise I can't stand it. Now, I try to be all understanding, because I understand that since I'm on the ground floor I'm going to hear some noise. Typically, it doesn't bother me too much, but lately it's made me shout obscenities at the ceiling. I have shouted things like "What could you POSSIBLY be doing up there?" and "A curse upon your house!" and other things I'm not going to write. I was wondering why it was bothering me so much, and I realized that since I've been home during the day for the last two weeks, I'm hearing it more during the day and that's why it's bugging me more.

Why don't I just stop whining about it on the blog and do something about it? Well, that's complicated. The way I see it, I have two choices:

1. Go up and ask them to be considerate of me downstairs and try to walk softer please. It would have to be a note, because I'm really not assertive in the least when confronting people. There's a lot of hand-wringing and "um, excuse me" and other things like that.

2. Talk to the apartment complex. Let them know I'm bothered by the people above me and they need to take care of it.

In the past, I've had two incidences that make me a little gun-shy about taking care of the problem in either of those ways. Both did not work out well for me.

#1. When I lived in Florida, the man that lived above me was my father's age, and had two college-aged sons that lived with him. He wasn't too loud, but one weekend when he was out of town, his son had a lady-friend over, and was very, um, loud. So loud I couldn't hear the television over their...um discussion of politics in which I can only assume she agreed because she kept shouting 'yes'. (It doesn't just happen in the movies my friend.) So, I wrote them a note asking them to keep it down when they had guests over as I could hear everything that was going on. And the dad came down and beat on my door and yelled at me and was very mean and gave me dirty looks the whole rest of the time I lived there.

#2. Contact the management of the apartment complex. This is what I'll probably do. I just hate it, because it's like tattling to the teacher to get them in trouble. I don't know how the complex will handle it. I don't want to get the guy in trouble, but I want him to be aware that he's freaking loud. When I lived in this apartment complex before, I was in the very apartment he is in, and whoever lived below me tattled on me. There were other circumstances surrounding it, but the complex sent me the most rude, passive agressive note, and I was so pissed I decided to move out right then. And I'm just not a tattler. I teach them, but I am not one of them.

I'm going to try to stick it out until I go back to work on Monday, and then see if it just doesn't bother me as much when I'm back into my routine.

But the ceiling fan was my picture for day two, since I was awoken by a big jump on the floor from the guy above.

Baby Come Back!

Guess who came crawling back to me.

Yeah, interweb, you just thought there was something better out there. I waited patiently at home while you went out and "explored your other options" and "found yourself."

Welcome home, interweb. Welcome home.

Go Figure

So, I left work on Friday, came home, and turned the computer on. And left it on, using it almost constantly. For over a week.

Last night, I did a lot of work, and noticed that my battery was not quite right, so I decided to turn it off, give it a rest and a good charge overnight, and maybe that will let me use it for more than an hour unplugged.

This morning, when I turned it on, I noticed that it didn’t automatically connect to the internet. Because now, there is no internet. When I first moved in, I didn’t set up an internet connection, because I have one at school, and at the business center, so I didn’t exactly need one. Then, at some point, one just magically appeared. Out of nowhere. Thus began the extreme wasting of time on the internet…

And now it’s gone. Bye-bye. No longer in existence. Go figure.

I’m not too worried. Most of the work I wanted to get done- like making my own blog background- I got done last night. And as for posting, I’ve been utilizing blogger’s scheduled posting feature, so I’ve been writing and posting two and three days ahead and letting blogger update it. I’d planned to do that more in the new year just so I could get some more work done, since I’m getting some ridiculously creative ideas and finding no time to do them and clean the apartment.

And I’ve discovered that the battery problem is so not solved, as I’ve been on it for 30 minutes and I’m already down to half power…

And this is my 500th post. So I guess I'm celebrating by losing my internet. Apparently the interweb thinks it might be dangerous if I posted more than 500 of my thoughts.

Go figure.

I may have lost my movies and my dvd remote, but at least I found my sunglasses

I lose my sunglasses a lot. That's why I have multiple pairs. One pair I love, one pair I tolerate, and back-up pairs that I keep in my car, apartment, and classroom. I am that much of a slave to my sunglasses. Anyways, since it's been overcast every single day this week, I haven't needed them. Until yesterday, when it was very sunny and I spent the day squinting.

Last night, I came home and crashed on the couch for a little bit, then watched White Christmas, which I really do love so. After that, I wanted very much to watch Love Actually, which Sam-I-Am and I discussed the other day. I really wanted to watch it. So I searched my massive dvd collection, which consists of at least 25 dvds, and couldn't find it anywhere. Anywhere. I'm still a bit sad about it. I think somewhere along the way I loaned it to someone (perhaps even Sam-I-Am) and never got it back. I gave up and went to bed.

So this morning, after my long winter's rest, I got sucked into a Lifetime Christmas movie, in which Wall-St.-Wonder Neil Patrick Harris goes home to take over the family business after his grandfather dies and he falls in love with Naomi Watts (betcha didn't see that one coming) while trying to understand his grandfather with the help of his loveable Gran. Which made both Daisy and I want to spend the day watching movies while making Mo's baby book.

I decided the first on the list would be Lars and the Real Girl. Went to the dvd player and opened up the case...only to find it empty. Seriously. No idea where it is. This is getting quite annoying. So I have to settle for Pride and Prejudice. I am tempted to watch The Holiday, but I'm saving that for when my aunt comes to town, which I know will make her happy.

The good news and the moral of this story is that in the search for the dvd, I did happen to find my favorite pair of sunglasses. Of course, after I popped in the dvd I realized that I have no idea where my dvd remote control is located. When your living room floor looks like this, though, that is really to be expected.

**Found the Lars and the Real Girl and am watching it now. Forgot what a good movie this is.

My work here is done.

Tonight I just finished the last of the church Christmas extravaganza. I spot-lighted singers, wise-men, angels, and of course, the Baby Jesus. I have been at church 9 of the last 10 days, some nights as late as 11pm. But I'm done now, and happily watching Snow 2: Brain Freeze on ABC Family. I am very happy. It was supposed to come on this whole time that I was at church. But abc family is showing it again. So I get to see it. It's been a good day:


Other things that made me happy today:
- I learned a new trick on my camera that lets me take pictures like this one. I've so very much longed to take pictures where I can focus on a close-up thing while the background is blurry. I may have to take excessive pictures of random things so I can utilize this new feature. You've been warned.


- "Winter Song" by Sara Barellis and Ingrid Michaelson. It is it for me right now. A close second: "On the Radio" by Regina Spektor. Good stuff man.


- The new book I'm reading: Inkheart. It is a beautiful and well-written story and I am already lost in it, and I wish I was Meggie or at the very least Elinor because she has so many books. I so love this book. It's coming out in a movie in late January. I'm too excited!


-Since I have nothing tomorrow night, I'm coming home and cooking dinner. I've been eating out for a ridiculously long time as I've been running from here to there, and I haven't cooked in weeks!


- I got a new Starbucks ornament this morning. Now I have one for each of the last three years. I took a picture of it this morning, but that was before I learned about the nifty little setting on my camera, so it didn't turn out so well.


- I skipped big church this morning (don't tell Jesus) and went to Target. And that is where I found the wrapping paper of my dreams! It is green with a green damask flocked print on it. FLOCKED! My heart cannot bear the joy of it! I immediately came home and wrapped the two presents I have ready. Lots of my presents are hand-made or hand-altered, so they take a little more than just a trip to the store to take care of. But doesn't the package just bring you joy? It does to me!


Ah the little joys. There was one thing that did make me laugh out loud. In the grocery store, I did hear "Baby, It's Cold Outside" sung by Rod Stewart and Dolly Parton. Yeah. It was funny as I put together who was singing.

Have I mentioned how pretty my wrapping paper is? And that it's flocked?

Sorry

I was going to post something a little Christmas-y, a little sumpin' sumpin' about my fourth graders, and discuss just what a pain it is to figure out how to get my binder rings in my book. Oh, and I was going to chat with you about the weather, politics, and maybe a little religion thrown in for good measure. And pictures. There would have been pictures.

But I've been at church all night, and should probably still be there, but I'm very cautious about my boundaries, and past 10pm on a school night is out of my boundaries.

And I'm exhausted. So none of the above will happen. I'm just going to go to bed.

Sorry.

It is not meant to be...

The original title for this post was "Success, thy name is margarita pie."

I went to Lubbock for Thanksgiving and had a tutorial from the executive chef herself, learned the finer art of folding cool whip into a bowl of sweetened, condensed, margarita goodness, and was ready to come back and test my mad pie-making skills. I even took pictures of the steps along the way, so I could eventually open up my own cooking website, because I've come a long way from measuring ice, so I'm quite certain everyone in the whole wide interweb would love for me to pass on my culinary knowledge.

But it is not meant to be. I made the margarita pie today. I gently and lovingly folded the cool whip into the mixture and lovingly whispered "congeal little pie, congeal" as it slid into the extra large (2 extra servings!) graham cracker crust.

I checked it when I got home from the extravaganza that is the SOC rehearsal (which will be dominating my week.) I gave it a little jiggle. It stood firm. I poked it with my finger and asked it "are you ready?" I felt the firmness answered me with a yes. I picked out a knife and mentally wrote the blog post in my head about how success, thy name was margarita pie.



And I cut into it. And attempted to put it on a plate. And got this:


Not exactly a firm slice of pie. It's once again margarita soup. But readers, this is the third time I've made this, and the third time I've gotten this result. I think its time to throw in the lime green towel.


There was other news in the land, though. Good news. I got a special package today, from none other than CaNAda, land of the international business trip. My binder rings came in today! Hurrah!





Of course, upon opening the package from CaNAda, I realized that I made a gross miscalculation on the ginormous sizes of three of the binder rings I ordered. But I'm sure I can do something with them. And in true trainwreck form, the screws I ordered are way too big, but one stop at Home Depot-not-Lowe's should do the trick nicely. Maybe my friend "beef" will help me again!

I will try to put it all together tomorrow and post some pictures, but I make no promises due to church committments.

A Letter

Dear Mom Volunteering at My School Today,

Thank you for your time and energy in volunteering with our day today. However, a word of advice. Unless a woman has used the phrase "due date," do not ever even suggest the hint that she may look maternityish in any way. It will just take the air out of her day and probably piss her off a little. At least, that's what happened today when you said that my dress was cute and you wish they had cute clothes like that when you were pregnant.

Not everyone will be as gracious as I was. Or deflated.

Yours truly,
The Teacher Who Is Not Pregnant, But Will Be Burning Her New Dress Shortly and Never Eating Again

Why I Don't Carry A Tazer

Alternate titles: "Why do I think I'm a grown up?" or "Who said she could live by herself?"

It was a dark and stormy night. (All good stories start out that way. It was actually only slightly raining.)
I had Kells Bells and the two dogs at the new place.
We were watching High School Musical 2. (What time is it? Summer time!)
All of a sudden, the power goes off.
We did not panic.
We lit candles, and I carried around a flashlight.
I discovered that the power was only off in my buidling.
Talk to neighbors out walking their dogs, none too friendly, none even remotely interested in fixing the problem.
Call emergency maintenance number. Operator tells me that they no longer answer calls to my complex. Great.
Talk to more neighbors, still in dark. Again, no one interested in trying to resume power to our building.
Call leasing office, hoping to get emergency call number.
Press 2 for after-hours operator. Speak with after-hours operator who sounds remarkably like Marge Simpson, and makes it clear that she is not interested in talking to me and that also, this is probably my fault and I should call the electric company. Thanks.
Take two barking dogs outside. Walk around building (all of this with 7 year old in tow).
See power come flickering on. Say thank you to Very Nice Man who was smart enough and concerned enough to come outside and fix the cursed problem by simply flipping the breaker.
Meet Very Nice Man. Turns out, he lives in my old apartment, right above me, and has his daughter for the weekend, and they've rented a 2-day rental, and dangit, they're going to finish the movie.
Discuss High School Musical 2 with Very Nice Man. Just in case he might ever be interested in me, let me just go ahead and kill that interest now.
Take dogs and kid back into apartment. Promptly forget about the whole experience.


This is where it gets funny, and sadly, a little too typical of me.

(aside: all night long, Kells Bells has been saying that she hears a noise, which is actually just Very Nice Man and his daughter walking around. After about the umpteenth time that she says "I heard a noise" I just start ignoring it altogether. My bad.)

One Hour Later:

Kells Bells says she hears a noise.
Dog starts barking at door.
I think dog wants to go outside. I tell Kells Bells to round up the dogs, and we'll take them outside one last time before bed.
Get the leashes on dog. Not an easy feat by any means. We get our shoes on.
Open door, where there is a man and a teenager on the other side staring at me.
Proceed to SCREAM BLOODY MURDER and slam the door.
Realize what has happened, and that it was in fact, the maintenance man at the door.
Reopen the door, apologizing profusely, and remembering why I don't carry things like mace or tazers with me.
Continue apologizing profusely to the completely befuddled maintenance man, who can't figure out why this girl has called him to her apartment at a ridiculous hour and then screamed and slammed the door in his face.
Try to explain to the maintenance man the problem and that Very Nice Man has fixed it.
Shut door as maintenance man is walking off. Double check locks.

Kells Bells looks at me and says (with as much "I Told You So You Big Idiot" as she can muster in her voice): I TOLD you I heard a noise.

And after that, we just had to call it a night.