I love Saturday.

Today is the best kind of Saturday; the sort where you have nowhere to be, no commitments to keep, no chores that MUST be completed.  (Of course, there's always laundry and cleaning to be done, but I've been good this week and haven't let my house become a sty, so I can totally put off domestic chores until tomorrow.  After all, isn't that why God made Sundays?  So we can wash our dirty clothes and homes and prepare for the upcoming workweek?)

We've got a costume party scheduled tonight, which, contrary to what I said in that whole first paragraph, means I do have to hunt out my footie pajamas and wash them, and locate the gloves and ears and tail that make up my Max costume.  Jimi's going to be a Wild Thing again - we spent a lot of time and money on those costumes last year, dammit, so yes, we're totally recycling.  Besides, most of our friends never saw the costumes last year - just Karen and Gary and the crowd at the gay bar.  (Speaking of which, remembering the gay bar last Halloween makes me REALLY want to go back.  I wonder if they're open Monday night?  Wanna go with me?)

I got up just after 6 all week long; sleeping in until after 8 today makes me feel spoiled and pampered.  8 is still REALLY early for a Saturday, but I like getting up early on the weekends - I can always take a nap in the middle of the day, for as long as I want, if I start to get yawn-y.  Weekends are awesome.

I bought and downloaded The Sims 3 Pets last night.  Jimi gave me some shit over it, saying it's stupid and dumb and a waste of money.  And it is, but it entertains me and I enjoy it.  And we have separate bank accounts so I can spend my money the way I want to spend it and he can't say shit about it, so maybe we've got a shot at this happily ever after thing.  Cause last night, had our accounts been joint, I probably wouldn't have bought the game.  And I would've been pissed about it.  And I would still be pissed about it.  And it would be all his fault.  But he has his money and I have my money, and well, we're just going to keep it that way because it's safer.  (I haven't played my new game yet, but I'm greatly anticipating diving in after I'm finished with this here blog post.)

I'm trying to take a picture or two every day of things that make me smile (or say WTF?).  I like scrolling through them at the end of the week and remembering the little things that made up my otherwise mundane and routine week.  With that being said...

 Pictures from the Karaoke bar last Friday night:

Think the dude in red was doing "No Diggity".  The lady on the right was gettin' down.

I met Sarah's friend Robbi for the first time, after hearing his name for years.
We got along swimmingly.
I stole the hat from Robbi's friend, but I eventually gave it back.

chicks taking self-portraits in public bathroom mirrors.  WTF?

Oh here, random stranger, hold my phone and do this for us, will you?

And then there was the rest of the week:

This bug just appeared out of nowhere, on the inside of my car.
It's a good thing I was pulling into my driveway, otherwise this surprise could've had tragic consequences. 

Murphy the Office Dog.
Doing his Buckwheat impression.

 I think it was Tuesday when I'd let Finn out back and he started going crazy at the corner of the breezeway.  I walked over to him to see what the fuss was about, and this little guy scurried across the walkway and under my car.  He was hanging out under the back tires first...

But he ran to the front when I tried to shoo him out...

And my next attempt resulted in this:

"I'm just gonna hang on the back of this here tire, and maybe she can't see me and will go away."
That's what I did - I went away and left him alone and he found his home.

.   

The trees in our front yard have been so beautiful this week:

I made fire (and subsequently cut my finger and had to dig rust out of it and decided to get a tetanus shot).

The doctor's visit was cool, though.  My appointment was at 8:15, and at 8:30, the doctor came out from the back with a bowl of cereal, crunching away happily on his breakfast as he chatted with another doctor's patient about their children, who apparently attend the same school.  Fifteen minutes later, a nurse calls me back for intake and puts me in a room.  10 minutes after that, I see the doctor.  

I want to be mad and be all "what the fuck, doc?" because I was missing work and getting behind and all I needed was a needle jabbed in my arm and when it came right down to it, the waiting time was three times as long as the treating time.  But I really like my doctor.  He's good, and he listens, and he takes notes on a computer, which I just really really love.  I don't know, he came to me highly recommended and accepts my insurance and I feel like he's thorough and I like that I can get a same-day appointment if I'm sick as hell.  

Anyhow, so I let him talk me into a flu shot.  I've never had one of those, either, and I told him why: I don't get sick very often, and I haven't had anything that resembled the flu in years and years and years and I don't want to get a shot and get sick.  He told me the flu shot is not for me, it is for those around me with compromised immune systems.  And I thought of Stacy's baby, who's going to be born at the end of January, when everyone's got a runny nose and a cough, and how I want to kiss her new sweet face without worrying I'll give her some awful respiratory funkiness.  He also told me that people don't get sick from the flu shot, and I decided to take his advice and believe him until I have a reason not to and so I let them give me two shots rather than the one I came for.  Knock on wood, I'm 48 hours into it and nary a sniffle or chill has visited me.  

Crossing the tracks to work.
That's downtown Louisville there in the middle, that lit-up building.

Sitting on my back step, with a book and a smoke, this is my view: 

My sink has been this empty all week.  I'm not even lying.  (If you don't know me personally, this is a really big deal.  Huge, even.)  I'm very proud of us for being so responsible and grown-up.

I've probably posted six dozen pictures of the shit that lives in my office at work, but here are some more:

The zombie is coming to get the monkeys.

Pirate duck says fuck your zombies.  And your dusty monitor.

My Chick-fil-A boycott didn't last long.  Their nuggets call to me in my sleep sometimes.

This My Little Pony dates from my childhood.  

Hi Kimmie!

There was frost on the ground this morning.

Winter, I'm going to need you to hold off for a few more weeks, okay?  I'm not ready for serious cold yet.

Happy Weekend!