On the other hand, I've been able to sleep late, got to the gym, read my LJ, work on "Darkness" and chat with all my lovely LJ buddies. Although I managed to sign the "I will not use my work computer for anything but work" form with a nearly straight face, I have had the fear of God (or IT, anyway) put in me that if I'm online chatting, they can actually track it down and KNOW that I'm doing it, so those little "how ya doin'" chats during the workday have gone by the wayside.
I was home on Tuesday watching HOuse in real time. No rant. No spoilers. All I can do is quote my favorite line from "My Favorite Year" :"This makes me so happy!"
Last night we did go to the fabulously named "Makeout Room" for a show. Los Califas, who played "Early California" music combining Spanish, Mexican, Russian, American Indian influences. I thought they were awesome and the guitar player who had sort of a Vince Grenier thing going on kicked butt. Dan Levinson & Bob Carlin, two sort of old coot types, who did fiddling, guitar and serios claw-hammer banjo. They were great in that "sitting on the porch, telling yarn" kind of way, but seemed upset that no one was getting up and clog dancing or singing along. Get over it guys. It's a Wednesday in San Francisco. We're tired. Huckleberry Flint was a really good bluegrass band with really tight harmonies and a really pregnant fiddler. Any band that does Bill Monroe, Hank Williams, Bob Wills and can pull off all the harmonies is all right by me.
I wrote down a few ideas for the "Darkness" fic and another crackfic in progress. In fact as soon as I finish dawdling, I'll bring up Word and start writing.
This morning I eschewed the gym and got some maintennance done on the goddess nails. Is there anything that will make you feel more goddessy than one person doing the pedicure (including 10 minute foot massage) and one each working on a hand? My nails are now beautiful and shiny with a dark red laquer, that for some reason known only to the folks at Capri is called "Nirvana". I think I'll go tomorrow for a full body massage.
On the other hand (haha), I suck. I had promised to see my grandma this week. This would require a motorcycle ride across the Golden Gate bridge and right now the skies are gloomy and ominous. Considering the sniffly, coughy husband situation this ain't gonna happen. Sorry grandma. Maybe Saturday.
This is the second vacation in a row where hubby's been sick. You may remember the bronchitus he had on the Maui trip. He's more likely to call in sick to work than I am, but he's also more likely to pick up things at work. (I couldn't get a doctor so I married a nurse.) Maybe his body only lets him get really sick when he knows he's on vacation anyway? I don't know. I just feel bad that he's been all yucky this week. He seems to be doing better now and is playing mandolin in the background as I write this, although that metronome is getting on my nerves.