Stress

I don't know what's more stressful.

The continued buildup of blog posts from everyone that I can't seem to get through (seriously, shorter novels there folks) or the fact I cannot find my passport and scuba dive card to be able to book my flights for two months from now or the fact that somewhere between tomorrow and Friday I should know if I'm moving to Dream State.

Currently unavailable due to the extended celebration of my birthday. And, the first year anniversary of earning my Phd. I imagine it's going to be a hell of a week.

Open letters

Dear Check Engine Light,

Could you please turn off for the next two weeks? I don't really have time to deal with this right now. What with my birthday, girls night out (midweek), party this weekend, and Lil Sis' graduation party next week. Wait, and then there's PC going away on work travel for the first few weeks of May. Better yet, let's plan for end of May, ok?

*******

Dear broken out skin,

Seriously, not even close to TOM and I've been cleaning you regularly. Stop. I have pictures to be taken this week to document el birthday.

*******

Dear dirty dishes,

I don't mean to rush you, but could you hurry it up with the taking of the bath and getting back into your respective places in the kitchen? We've got someone coming in to install a new dishwasher and I don't want to be embarrassed with you guys all laying about.

*******

Dear kitties that share our home,

Please stop fighting. It sounds like world war and you are keeping me awake at night. Perhaps you could agree to be in different rooms since you allege not to like each other. PC and I are onto you though - we've both seen you nose to nose when you think we're not looking. Also, please stop getting on the counter tops to eat left overs off the dirty plates. Otherwise, you will be responsible for washing them and putting them away since you used them last.

*******

Dear rain,

We both have jobs to do. I get it. I sit in an office, you fall from the sky. Perhaps you could work the same hours I do so that I can go run outside.

*******

Dear Mr iPod,

I appologize for sweating on you. You see, it's just that I lost your arm band and you're too old to get a new one at any reasonable local store. Between you refusing to regain your energy and the rain, I'm going to be 50 pounds heavier by the end of the week. Could you please hang in there until my new iPod Touch which I won at my recent conference arrives to replace you?