, , , , , , , , , , ,

I did training classes for 7 hours straight today. That’s 7 hours of nonstop talking (except for the pauses for the embedded instructional videos) and putting on my friendly, enthusiastic persona so as to not frighten our employees while they are still shiny and new.

I deserve a medal.

Not because I’m feeing entitled or anything! No…of course not! *quickly backtracks* Just…because my throat was not feeling so great, and I was getting pretty hoarse toward the end. But I got them through the classroom portion by the time I had promised them I would, and almost even clocked out at my scheduled time. And I barely had to distort time and space to make it happen. Woo.

I didn’t sleep so well last night, so I am not feeling terribly coherent right now…

Meeting with photographer went alright yesterday. So did dinner with Jester’s mom…
We picked up the rings yesterday, too, which is exciting. I think they’re really nice. *satisfied customer*

My Wolf keeps smirking at our explanation of why we chose the rose colour we did though. It’s not a lie, but it’s not actually where we got the idea.
And that is what you get when you really fancy the way something sounded in a thing you read, and so you decide it needs to be a part of your real life…

Invitations getting addressed and sent out soon (I hope).

Um…? What else? Idk. Too sleepy.
Well, we did go see a movie yesterday after dinner. It was kind of a strange movie, and I’m not sure that I know what to think of it. My sister did turn out to be right though, when she told me months ago that it seemed like something I’d see…

Stacy: *scrolling through imdb.com* This one looks like a movie for you.
Me: How far away is the release date?
Stacy: February?
Me: That’s too far out. I won’t even remember.
Stacy: It’s got a pretty memorable title.
Me: If you say so. *pause* What is it?
Stacy: Heil Hitler.
Me: *chokes on dinner*
Mom: *across the room* Are you okay?
Me: *coughing* I’m good.
Stacy: *snickering*
Me: You liar. What is it actually called?
Stacy: Hail, Caesar.
Me: …..
Stacy: It was close enough.

And while we’re on the subject, I’ve got a vaguely related work conversation…

Me: *hands Thabet some papers* Put those in my mailbox, will you?
Thabet: Yeah. *looks at the mailboxes* Um…actually…I don’t think this is gonna fit…
Me: *looks at overflowing mailbox* Ugh. Yeah…I have too much HR stuff I need to go through.
Thabet: Where should I put the papers then?
Me: Um. Put them in your mailbox.
Thabet: What? Why?
Me: Because it’s next to mine.
Thabet: But–
Me: I’m annexing your mailbox–temporarily, I promise.
Thabet: Sounds like something a Nazi would do.
Me: Well, think of yourself as my little brother, Austria.
Thabet: *laughs*
Me: We have the same goals for HR, riiiiight?
Thabet: Yeah, okay…
Me: Excellent. So put them in your mailbox for now.
Thabet: *puts the papers in his mailbox* I feel like I’m going to regret this.
Me: When the audit happens and all the files are accounted for, everyone will remember that you made the right choice.
Thabet: Omg.

And for my closing, I want to note that I almost never dream anymore. That’s pretty upsetting, because I like dreaming and I used to have really crazy, vivid dreams that made for interesting stories to post…

But I did dream the other night. About one of my obnoxious recurrent themes–being in Russia. Except that I was going to jail this time. For listening to the band Queen in a public space where other people could hear it. Apparently listening to Bohemian Rhapsody counted as “spreading homosexual propaganda”…and I wasn’t really having much success with my argument that I don’t even have that song in my music library…

It was a bizarre and frustrating dream. And as much as I’d like to get back into the habit if having dreams, I also need to give my dream-persona a stern talking-to about not continuing to go to Russia. It never ends well–getting shot at by legions of rubber ducks, crashing my carriage and getting jeered at by my talking horse, also crashing my dragon/wasp pet (in dreamland-Russia, it seems I am a really terrible animal handler) and having to wade through an ocean of snow to get to the Kremlin…and now going to jail for music that I swear I wasn’t even listening to. Bah.

I should go someplace nice. Like maybe a

Ha. I looked at that sentence for a long time and couldn’t think of where to go with it. But the point is that I should STOP dreaming about being in Russia. Because I do that too much. I should go someplace else in the dreamworld so that bad things can happen to me in a different setting, yeah? Yep. Because that’s how dreams go.

Anyway. Sleeptime.