Hello there, Internet!

How I have missed you, these long weeks we’ve spent apart! Okay, so it was really more like two weeks, which isn’t super long. And I posted on Friday, even though it was about teeth goo, of all things. And I’m sure that you didn’t even NOTICE my lengthy absense, but I missed you, so let’s just pretend that the longing was mutual, okay?

Let’s get to the randomosity.

– So, my apartment has two tiny balconies – one off of the living room, the other off the master. My apartment is on the first floor, but it’s above the garage door, so there’s quite a distance between the balconies and the ground. No trees touch the balconies, and no branches overhang the balconies either. So I was surprised the other day to find a squirrel on the living room balcony.

I have no idea how he got there. But he seemed quite at home, climbing up the railing, sitting on the little glass table that’s between two deck chairs, and flattening himself on the concrete floor. (It must be nice and cool.)

I didn’t mind him. In fact, I (briefly) entertained the idea of setting out some water and food (what do squirrels eat? Probably not pre-sliced Hormel pepperoni) and trying to tame his wild little heart.

But then he started flinging himself at the door.

You see, two sliding glass doors open onto the balcony. The squirrel would climb up onto the back of the deck chair and leap at the door. Of course, he would then smash into the glass and fall, stunned, to the floor.

I was pretty shocked. I mean, what the eff, squirrel? But I figured that he’d learned his lesson and went back to my typing.

And then he did it again.

He did it four times before I stomped over to the door and opened it, and he disappeared over the edge of the balcony.

I have no idea what he was doing or why. Was he trying to get onto the roof? Was he suicidal? (It HAS been really hot around here.) Was he trying to fling himself into my living room?

– In other wildlife news, a pair of pigeons keep landing on my balcony railing to… get busy. Seriously. I am constantly banging on the door to get them off each other. Couple of horny teenagers. Get a room already. One that doesn’t obstruct my view.

– In other OTHER wildlife news, when I was visiting my parents a few weeks ago, I answered the phone when my mom was out walking the dog. It was the neighbor.

“Tell your mom to bring the dog inside,” she said cheerfully. “My grandson was in the outhouse and he spotted a grizzly. It’s headed your way.”

(Yes. He spotted a grizzly bear from the outhouse. This is the wild, y’all.)

Once my mom and her dog were safely inside, we spent the rest of the afternoon peering out the windows for the bear.  It was an odd feeling. I mean, do you hope that a grizzly walks across your lawn… or do you hope that he doesn’t? Is an unseen grizzly better than a visible one? Would a grizzly-sighting be exciting or terrifying?

Not questions I ever really thought I’d be asking.

– We’ve been looking at houses for about a month now. I’ve learned a lot even from such a short period of house hunting. Perhaps I will bore you with share the details in a future post.

I fell in love with the first house I looked at. My husband loved it, too. It’s very over-priced for the area, but we’re going to put in an offer anyway to see if they’ll come down on the price at all. Writing about it here pretty much guarantees that we won’t get it, so if you see me mooning about in the next few weeks, you’ll know why.

– Of course, in anticipation of this house (which we won’t get), I’ve gotten some wild idea that I’m an interior decorator. I joined Pinterest, which I don’t really understand. And I’ve spent way too much time flipping through screen after screen of “luxurious bedrooms” on Martha Stewart’s website. But just because I can pin 10 photos of rooms in varying shades of green and brown doesn’t mean I could arrange them in a room in any remote semblance of “style” or “intentional design.” Anyone want to decorate the house that we don’t and probably will never own for me? You can start in the office. It must incorporate a desk and this loveseat.

– I’ve secured a new eye doctor. I wasn’t a big fan of my last eye doctor, and I am not sure yet whether my new eye doctor is any better. BUT I will give him a chance.  (He appears to be obsessed with fish. Every room has big paintings of fish. He wears a fish pin. I guess that’s my only evidence of Fish Obsession, but it seemed like ample evidence when I was in the office.) (I mean, his Love Of Fish was so evident, I spent the whole time trying to think of ways to bring up fly fishing or trout or something. Fortunately, I had enough presence of mind to realize I know NOTHING about fish [other than it’s yummy] so I kept my trap shut.0

Anyway, I got my eyes examined a few weeks ago and ordered new contacts.  Then, a week or so ago (I can’t remember – I was on a plane, and I’ve been on too many planes lately, and all the stupid planes run together) I got a voicemail from the eye doctor’s receptionist. All she said in the message was, “This is Receptionist. Please call me back.”

That struck me as a little weird, right? Did I have some horrible eye disease that she couldn’t talk about over the phone? Was there some embarrassing problem with my insurance? Was my eye doctor firing me?

When I called her back, she wasn’t in the office. And she hadn’t left any notes for the other receptionist about what was up. So I had to call back. Spoiler alert: It wasn’t a horrible eye disease, or even the eye equivalent of a cold. She just wanted me to come by and pick up some trial contacts. Why she couldn’t leave that in a message, I do not know. I suppose it could have been a HIPAA thing? Who knows.

– So the other thing about the eye doctor receptionist: She seemed to think that I could just pop over and pick up the contacts. And that I could just pop in next week to have the eye doctor check the fit.

Can you do this, Internet?

I just… I can’t. Despite the fact that I am an independent contractor and work from home… I just can’t slip out for an hour or two in the middle of the day. And I would imagine that it’s even more difficult to do when you’re in an office.

Am I terribly misguided on this point? Can you come and go as you please?

– I’m reading A Discovery of Witches now. I’ve been reading it for a month. My mom mailed it to me a while ago and I read the first page and put it down. But then a few bloggy friends gave it high marks, so I picked it back up and forced myself to keep reading. And I am now about halfway through.

It’s enjoyable. But I don’t know if I like it. And it’s taking me forever. And it’s heavy. And I just want some action already, stop describing Matthew’s house and his horses I DON’T CARE. But somehow I am still compelled to read it instead of the copy of Home Buying for Dummies my husband keeps placing meaningfully on my pillow.

– Do you watch murder mystery shows? You know, CSI, Bones, The Closer, etc? Have you ever noticed how, when the cop/FBI agent/crime scene investigator notifies The Bereaved that their friend/loved one/lawyer just turned up dead, The Bereaved almost immediately starts referring to The Dead in the past tense?

I just… find that unbelievable. More unbelievable, in fact, than a forensic anthropologist or crime scene investigator doing a death notification. Don’t you think it would take a while for the death to sink in? Wouldn’t you still refer to The Dead in the present tense until his/her death sinks in?

“Ma’am, your husband was murdered 10 minutes ago.”

“Oh god no!”

Five minutes pass.

“He was such a great husband, back when he was alive.”

Um. No. I don’t think so.

– And finally, because I have had this stuck in my head all weekend, I pass it on to you. Please take careful note of the slammin’ dance moves.

Happy Monday, Internet.