Dammit Jim, I'm a Musician, not a Housemaid!

First off: for the like two people who still subscribe to this blog, ask me a question in the comments and I'll answer it in its own blog post!

Secondly, it has recently been brought to my attention that I am not the most orderly of individuals. I was getting ready to head out to work for the first time at my employer's new office, when I realized I could not find my wallet anywhere. At all. I spent half an hour of the forty-five minutes I still had before there was no physical way I could get there on time looking for it, so I could drive there only semi-illegally. (In other news, I figured out basic car repair last night and replaced one of my car's headlights, because I'm too broke to pay someone else $100 plus parts to do it for me.) My wallet was eventually found underneath a pile of laundry nearly a foot high, in the pocket of the pants I'd worn two days ago, and I was left with a mere 15 minutes of getting-lost time. Luckily, I only used ten of them trying to get out of the evil pitcher-plant-like parking lot I turned into, in hopes that putting the address into my GPS would help. It did not.

But anyway, when my mother found out about said search, I'm 90% positive that her gloating 'I told you so' was psychically broadcast as far as Thanatos. What she said was merely, 'Then maybe you should clean up.'

Here's why finding the wallet was so hard:

My keyboard and desk, both in their natural state of 'hosting any object that wants a flat surface to sit on'. Beneath both lie many many books. And hey, you can see my TARDIS poster.

The fateful pants, with the pile of laundry in the background. Also, books that my cats have flung from their shelves and part of my closet door.

A view of under my keyboard, all the stuff on the stool and underneath it. I'm not sure how the one stack of books hasn't collapsed. And hey, my wallet!

Just. My floor and chair and bookshelf. That white and black thing on top of the stuff in the chair? My prom dress. The grey thing on the floor? My back pack. And in the lower right corner, a another cameo of my wallet.

The point of all of this is that today I'm cleaning my room. Wish me luck.

Sunburns and Jobs and Absences, Oh My!

So I had orientation for my summer temp job yesterday, and I got to walk around behind the scenes at EAA's Airventure for a good two hours, being orientated and watching the helicopters and biplanes and awesome cars fly and/or drive around. I'm working at the Ford tent, stamping booklets for people, so I'm going to be sitting out of the sun among brand new Mustangs, F-150s, and other cars whose names I don't remember. It was all very interesting, and I might get to meet George Lucas (We were told to always address him as Mr. Lucas should we see him. That was an actual warning they gave us. No lie). However, being the highly intelligent and utterly prepared person that I am, I wore a tank top to the orientation, thinking that we would be given our uniform shirts right away and not wanting to roast. I also did not wear sunscreen, because the bits of me that are visible whilst wearing a t-shirt no longer burn. They have lost that capability in self-defense.

Unfortunately, we did not get our uniforms until the very end, and we did not put them on at any time. So I walked around, outside, in the 90 degree weather, with no shade, for approximately an hour and a half, correcting for the short periods of time I spent under a tent. I am sunburnt beyond belief. I am a shade that, when seen on a human's epidermis, is typically deemed 'lobster' or 'tomato'. Clothing hurts. So do goosebumps. With the interesting tanlines created by my tank top and bra straps, I look like a candy-cane made of flesh. It huuuurts. (I wonder how many hits I'm going to get for 'flesh candy-cane'. Hi, slightly creepy people!)

'Kay, so now that I've finished complaining, the reason for this informative but slightly rambling bit is this: for the next five days, I'm not going to be around, what with working 9 to 5, then rehearsing until 9 again. I'm going to go and rescue poems and rants from my notebook, though, so there shall be posts! Huzzah!

Now I'm going to go put more creme on my shoulders. It huuuurts.