WooHoo!

This weekend, thanks to the glorious and wonderful, not to mention beautiful and generous truecrystal I get to play sloth and watch hours and hours of Carnivale!

My excitement, it knows no bounds.

And, when taking breaks from the telly, I can lay like broccoli and read The Da Vinci Code, which I just bought. Whee!

Now if only this *%^&%*&$^& week would end. I'm so sick of this job.

Umm, the ink from plastic Gap bags can't give you blood poisoning. Can it?

Part A: I went to the Gap after work and bought a bunch of warm, soft, snuggly, cozy fleece-y things. Well, three. But so worth it.

Part B: I noticed on the train that my hands, which have been obscenely dry for weeks now, looked even worse then usual. Seriously, my fingers, in their natural state, look like dehydrated sausage links, and the less said about my palms the better. So, like the sad, sad, optimist I sometimes am, I dug out my Eucerin and liberally applied (*maybe this time it'll work and my hands will miraculously heal! If I just clap my hands and wish rul hard . . .*).

Part C: Get off train. Go to cash station, then pizzeria (salad pizza! Like pizza, with a salad on it! Genius, I tell you. Though I could have lived with a few less green olives. Yeesh).

Part 4: Get home. Throw slices in the oven. Open up envelope from dentist (*happy sigh*) and discover the prescription for toothpaste I asked about last week. Nifty. Take off coat, start to take off silk shirt and notice

My entire left hand is freakin blue!!! Almost Navy! Front was blue, back was blue. Here a blue, there a blue. Everywhere a blue blue.

So, I immediately aborted the removal of the silk shirt with the aforementioned blue hand and went to the bathroom and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until my hand was . . . hand colored again.

I figured out that because I was holding the bag by the plastic instead of the sadistic yard strings in my newly lotioned left hand, I somehow managed to transfer much of the ink from the top of the bag onto my hand. Now the top of the bag looks tie-dyed.

So, I'm not going to get blood poisoning from the ink seeping through my dry, peeling, thin skin into my blood stream, right? Just checking.

Started The Da Vinci Code. Enjoyable, though I have to say Dan Brown is a very formulaic writer. Like Grisham and Cornwell. But that's okay. I'm still liking it. And this morning I started Disobedience by Jane Something-or-other which is about a boy (well, teenager) who discovers his mom is having an affair. I'm fairly certain that the reason I bought myself this book for Christmas three years ago is because the boy's sister is a devoted Civil War Reenacter. I usually buy myself a book at Christmas that is nothing like what I would usually read (which is how I ended up reading The Poisonwood Bible) and this was one of those books. I haven't bought my Christmas 2003 book yet. I'll get to it eventually, I'm sure.

And now, an abrupt endi-