I've been listening to the same six CD's at work for weeks because I keep forgetting to grab some different ones from my CD changer at home. Today, however, I discovered a long lost CD in my desk that I'd forgotten about for some time.

This is one of those CDs that magically appeared. I have no idea where or who I got it from. It's a promotional CD with a mix of some really great songs, though the main reason I always loved it was because The Old Apartment (Barenaked Ladies) is one of my favorite songs on the CD. Over a year ago (don't remember exactly when) Sam discovered a song on this CD that he would sing to me the way I would sing Local H's "High-Fiving Motherfucker" to him.

I came home from work one day and Sam and I were throwing darts when he played it and sang for me. The song cracked him up. I'd forgotten about it this past year, and discovering it today, it made me smile. Strange, when you listen to some of the lyrics:

"Now your time has come
I'm gonna cut you,
like I should have done
a long time ago.
Your smooth skin will part
So sweet and so tender
And my lips are never
Never far apart....

And with my little kitchen knife
I'll make a little feast of you
But you're so young, a little green
But soft and rotten at the core.

And with my little kitchen knife
I'll take a little taste of you
And carve the writing on the wall
I should've done this long before.

Now your time has come
I'm gonna cut you off
Like I should've done
A long time ago.
Your sweet flesh will split,
So smooth and so tender
And my lips are never,
never far apart.

No there is no choice for you.
Your time has come, and soon
I'm gonna cut you
like I should have done
long, long ago,
long ago,
a long time ago.

--Cut You, Penelope Houston (of Avengers fame...love those punk girls).

Anyway, just thought I'd post that.

I received an e-mail from a good friend of mine that used to work with me here at my day job before marrying and moving to Seattle. After my weekend of work resulting in utter exhaustion, I suppose that I was a little hostile to her attempts to bemoan the fact that she is bored from not working for the last two months. She quoted Plath for me...

"I tried to imagine what it would be like if Constantin were my husband.

It would mean getting up at seven and cooking him eggs and bacon and toast and coffee and dawdling about in my nightgown and curlers after he'd left for work to wash up the dirty plates and make the bed, and then when he came home after a lively, fascinating day he'd expect a big dinner, and I'd spend the evening washing up even more dirty plates till I fell into bed, utterly exhausted."

Let me just say, boo-hoo. If I had the luxury of not working 70-hour weeks, I would strip naked, paint myself blue, and run up and down the street screaming "FREEDOM!" at the top of the lungs a la William Wallace.

Went to another baby shower yesterday. Came home and threw up so much I had to double check to make sure I hadn't deposited some organs in the toilet as well. Apparently my own disgust with my life has begun physical manifestation.

I'm buried in editing work right now. I'll be peeking out of my cube in a few months time, covered with cobwebs and dustmites. I'm really excited about it.