The internet is back! Very, very glad. I plugged and unplugged and replugged a bunch of things when I got home from work. Nothing happened. Then John came and plugged and unplugged and replugged a bunch of things. Miracle of miracles: the internet works. I have no idea why it doesn’t work when I do it. I have a feeling it will be on and off for awhile as the new couple settles in upstairs. They’re nice though- very approachable.
Soooo…the house project continues. It’s actually at the point where it’s completely liveable. We’ve got something to sit on (a couple things to sit on!) a table, a tv, various kitchen appliances, and food! Not to mention a bed, AND a washer and dryer. Yes, yes, very liveable indeed. I feel lucky and excited.
Work is going well. I’m starting to this that the editing/publishing thing could be an interest that sticks. I think I’ve been fixated on it for about 6 months now- longer than the whole comparative religion thing, longer still than my desire to be a 911 operator or firewoman. Yes. I said firewoman.
So. Following another train of thought, John and I had another of our “debates” tonight. It started, I think, with my desire for napkins that match my food. If we’re eating Dominos, I like Dominos napkins. If we’re eating Wendy’s, I enjoy a Wendy’s napkin. ANYWAY…actually, that had nothing to do with it. I think we were actually discussing peoples’ obsession with poverty and crime in other countries without recognizing the problem in our own country (what I think is interesting is that in these sorts of debates I always take the liberal view while John defends the conservative, while we’re actually both independent), and I asked John one last question intending to drive my point home. I think I wanted to prove that he does, indeed, care about people in Uganda. He turned to me and said, “I do. And more importantly, I care about you. I love you.” What I’m wondering is: which mother did he get that tactic from? I had no argument for that!
Arg.
Actually, the “I love you,” comment was not meant as an end-all, be-all to arguments. It was in addition to the conversation at hand. AND neither mother has coached me on anything. One day you should try arguing the conservative bent on things and see what I do… one time, in Joyce class, I swore and then said, “Great! Now I have to defend the man I don’t like,” and then proceeded to give a pretty stinkin’ good defense of James Joyce.