learned helplessness

you know that think about it's not a mistake until you fail to correct it?

This morning I woke up to that gorgeous sound of rain and lay there, unwilling to move, even though I was sure all my books were getting soaked from the water coming through my car windows.

But you know what was so much worse? Parking, and sticking your card in one of those fancy parking meters, and waiting while it feebly makes that printing noise and gives you /nothing/.

bug in rosé

things I learned from Heidi Fleiss

If we all threw our dirty laundry in the middle of the floor, how quickly we would grab our own.

also, you gotta hate Miss Kathy, right?

some suggestions

• recycling bin


• also, when you start carrying that travel mug, bring some dish soap


• have a good place to keep it in the car, though, so it doesn't spill everywhere


• (like that power steering fluid all over the trunk)


• (you should probably clean that up)


• ((and then wipe off the bottom of the bucket you put on top of it))


• (((and then probably get the empty bottle and the roll of paper towels out of the front yard...)))


• (( ))


• ( )

twice a coincidence

Remember that song—the one with the incredible liar's paradox in it? I'm sure everyone else did the same thing, but I used to spend hours going over the loop in my head—well, if she means "you" as in "anyone who's vain enough to think a song on the radio (or at your 7th-grade dance) is actually about them", then just the fact that I'm thinking about whether that includes me must mean I'm incredibly vain. But she also says "probably think", so that must mean that if I think the song is about me, it actually /isn't/ about me (or, really, anyone who thinks the song is about them). So if it isn't about me, she can't be addressing me in the first place. But if I had to have her tell me it isn't about me, she /has/ to be addressing me in the first place....

I went to a bar last night and this adorable little couple waited until the person in the seat between us stood up and then looked over and said, "I bet you don't know that we know that your name is Kate Chapman." Um... actually, no. Um? "Something about a ... and a big dog... and...". Wow. Yeah—that's me. "Hope we haven't creeped you out." No, actually, I'm starting a business so I guess name recognition is something I should start paying attention to. "Wait, a business? I thought you were in education." Yikes. wow. um. yeah—it's an education business.

(The rest of this actually quite fascinating conversation happened after the guy between us got back, and grumbly, and seemed to be deliberately shifting forward and back until the seasickness of the conversation was more awkward than just turning away and texting.)

I'm sure it doesn't mean anything (and worse, I'm sure it's a /nice/ thing about a girl who works here, but) someone has snuck to the back and changed the music to "Uptown Girl" the minute I walked in two days in a row now at this beautiful little place I go for breakfast. I walk in with my laptop and my hair unkempt and think too much about the same menu and ... I've just got to stop that, huh?

suggestions?

reducing everything to an over-simplified analogy?

You're like an eighteen-year-old dog who isn't housebroken, blaming me for not putting the litter box in the right place.