Clearly feeling more than a little bit of volunteer burnout today. I know it’ll pass, but at the moment I could take the three organizations I’m currently doing work for and happily pitch them all directly into the Potomac. I think this always happens the days I have meetings at the cult co-op. Those can be so incredibly contentious, over the smallest things, that they’re frequently quite unpleasant to sit through. Makes me wish I had already picked up how to knit, as at least that could occupy my hands while I listened to them drone on.
Got to see BC last night for dinner and a horror flick. Whoever set up the arms at the theater so they could be pulled up between the seats and out of the way is a genius, as that made cuddling during the movie all the better.
And to whoever decided to start the as-yet-unreleased new Nicole Kidman flick with images of a space shuttle breaking up on reentry, may you die a horrible, painful death. Like any of us needed to see that happening again. Watching the first shuttle accident live on TV in Junior High was bad enough, having to help with post-cleanup efforts from the second one in the early 2000s was worse. Seeing it on the screen was not pleasant. So, yeah, thanks for the memories, asshat.
Oh, and the smell of pot and incense is back. I’ve placed a call with the local police lieutenant to see if they can do anything about it if I report the smell when it’s back. Not entirely hopeful, but wanted to know my options there. I’ve had it with these folks, and with this smell.