very simple

I bought this little cat house-bed-thing for Sadie, and when it arrived, I was worried that it might be too small for her. Apparently that’s not an issue.

Empty carbonator for my dearly beloved sodastream. Between the last time i swapped one of these out and now, the company has apparently decided to discontinue offering mail-order exchanges (I guess they’ve reached what they consider to be a critical mass of retail availability). Which means instead of conveniently ordering a replacement online, waiting for it to arrive and then packing this thing up and dropping it off at the UPS store about 3 feet from my apartment on my way out to do other things, I now have to drag this several blocks away to the closest store that even theoretically carries the large canisters, hope they have the right size, exchange it in person, and then drag the replacement home. It’s not really a big deal, except for the fact that I have to make a special trip for this, as i certainly don’t plan on dragging a giant canister of “contents under pressure” around with me (empty or, god-forbid, full) all day while I do other stuff.

Cool sky on my way home from work tonight.

Took this last night (on the right day). New bar in my neighborhood. Happy it’s open as its better than the boarded up space it replaced, but I still miss the excellent Indian restaurant that was the previous enterprise.

Random “stuff on desk” photo.

Yesterday was the second anniversary of my adopting Sadie. It was all worth it to witness her trying to fit herself into a box that was half her size tonight.

There was a larger box less than a foot away.

I have no idea why the cute little Italian coffee shop in my neighborhood has started selling pastries that look like angry birds, but they are. They’re pretty well done, too.

Back in the dark days before blogging was a widespread “thing”, and well before there were smartphones and tablets and other machines with the type of portability that allowed for being brought along on bicycle trips through europe, there was a thing called “writing” in “journals”.

Cleaning out all of my shelves yesterday, I found my travel journal from my bike trip through France and Switzerland back in 1999. There was one guy on the trip who would periodically check his email – by tracking down an internet cafe and paying for 20 minutes of use once every couple of days.

I’ve spent the past few weeks/months working on a plan to improve my apartment. The largest part of the project is redoing the bathroom, and I will hopefully be able to submit the paperwork to my board in the next week or two. A smaller project involved rearranging all of the stuff in the living room (and eventually replacing some of the furniture). So today was the day for the big “moving all the stuff” piece. I planned it for a holiday weekend so that I’ve have the extra day for recovery.

All went fairly well until I went to put the TV in its new place, on top of my bookshelf. I didn’t drop it, but apparently jeans with rivets are a really bad clothing choice when picking up an LCD display with both arms. Needless to say this was a bit upsetting. At least it’s Presidents’ Day weekend, and everyone’s having sales on new TVs.

The second casualty was my toe. I managed to drop something on it (NOT the TV – just an old, small, camera I had lying around that fell in the exact wrong way), and I’m pretty sure it’s broken. It’s certainly bruised. You’ll just have to trust me on it, because a photo would be gross. And just when I was getting back into wearing heels. At least it’s not the big toe like last time – although I should have some extra tape lying around so that’s…something.

I must have moved these records through at least 6 apartments and 20 years worth of living since the last time I actually owned a record player on which to play them.