So yesterday and last night we got a bunch of snow. Enough that the roads are covered except for the tire tracks. It’s bright and sunny out but cold enough that I doubt if there will be any meltage goin’ on. PD just informed me that it’s 27 degrees and added, “Suh-weet! My kind of weather.” Uh, yeah, his, not mine.
I flicked the news on when I got up to see what the weather would be today and Condoleezza Rice was being interviewed. Should it bother me so much that an educated person in such a prestigious position would say “ec cetera” and “more crisper and clearer?” I’m a stickler for proper grammar mostly and little things like this tend to irritate me. But I had to laugh when one of the questions included the phrase (referring to a situation in which our government didn’t act as maybe it should have) “a failure of Intelligence.” *snicker*
Enough about that. Except for a related topic. Earlier in the week an anchor on one of our local news stations said “autustry,” referring to the auto industry. I wonder if it was a misspeak or if that’s a new word.
On a totally unrelated topic, I’m terribly upset that I’ve been having problems with my wrists due to long hours on the job. They’re hurting something fierce. One of my favorite things to do this time of year is sending out Christmas cards. I write out a ton of them, mostly to people I’m not in contact with through the rest of the year. Some are relatives, some are teachers I’ve had, old neighbors… most are friends who have moved away and I don’t see often. Sometimes, if I’m pressed for time, I’ll compose a Christmas letter detailing events of the past year, updates on PD’s health, kids’ news, things like that. But with the way my wrists are feeling, I don’t think I’m going to be able to do it this year. I feel like I have to “save” them for work. Typing doesn’t seem to bother me too much, but I can’t see myself handwriting the envelopes. If I were a more organized person with foresight, I’d have a labelling system in place and could just print out labels. I don’t particularly care for that idea because it’s even more impersonal than sending a mass letter out, but if I had the time to make an address book on here, I would. But I don’t. So now there is one more reason to whine and complain about my job. I hate that it affects other parts of my life. My real life.
Sorry this was boring and whiny. It’s my state of mind today.