House stuff is progressing, finally. I made a decision a few nights ago that I don't give a shit about the money any more, let work dock my pay, let the sellers bleed as much cash out of us as they can, because once all is said and done I'm going to have a beautiful house in Maine, a brand-new septic system to poop in, and a job where I can work in my jammies.

Of course, John hasn't gotten back to me yet about the whole job thing, but I'm still keeping my fingers crossed. I think the fact that he hasn't come right out and said no already is a good sign. We'll see. At this point I'm not stressing about what may or may not be, but I certainly would like to know the story so I can plan accordingly.

Cut my hand last night while washing a wall—tore it, actually, on a stupid nail. It was a teeny little thing for hanging a picture, but it still made a decent gash in my hand. I hate cutting myself, there's always that moment when it first happens that I stand there and stare at it like it's not happening...my skin was just intact and complete a few moments ago, what happened? This is all before the pain and the blood, that usually snaps me out of my reverie.

Just about everything is packed here, except an air mattress and some incidentals of my own, and some stuff in the kitchen and the basement that didn't pack up easily. I hate packing that awkward stuff, then having to unpack boxes of really random junk. I also find myself packing everything just to get it out of my sight.

It's lonely. Michael left for Maine on Sunday as he started his new job this week. He's staying with Bob and Pam until we close on the house (which at this point is July 3, thank god). I was a little worried sending him to stay with my family alone, as he doesn't know them extremely well, but I think things are going okay so far and everyone is playing nice. As long as Bob doesn't get drunk and belligerent everything should be okay. I'll have to thank them once we're settled in to our new home.

Speaking of which, woo hoo! We're buying a house in Maine! I have to remind myself of that, sometimes.

I'm so glad to be getting out of Waterbury, CT. Talk about a shithole. The city is bankrupt, first of all, and the taxes here are so bad that everyone who has money is moving out, leaving the people who don't have money and don't pay taxes. Go figure. Roads are always fucked up, half of the businesses here are boarded-up storefronts, I certainly wouldn't want to go anywhere at night. There are no coffee houses, no culture, nothing but some seedy bars, a couple of strip clubs, and a handful of "happy ending" health spas. Talk about a friggin gem of a place to live. Oh yeah, I forgot about ex-Mayor Giordano, who was arrested on charges of sexual abuse of a minor. Whee!

There is this one insane cricket who lives in my back yard. He cheeps all night long, and it sounds like he's right below my window. Get a mate, already. Stop torturning me. It's been so hot and humid here lately, completely miserable weather.

Some of the first things I'm going to do upon moving to Maine:

Get a P.O. Box (for my business address)

Get a new library card

Get a season pass to Range Pond so I can go swimming whenever I want

Get a business license

Get a domain

Get cable modem service so I can set up a web server

Get a picnic table

I have a single, wiry hair that sprouts from my chin. It really annoys me. Periodically I notice it's there and I pluck it, but it always comes back. Just above that I have a mole (call it a beauty spot if you will) that has a hair growing out of it. Not so baeutiful when it's all hag-like. I pluck that one, too, but that one hurts! I always worry that maybe I'm making it stick out more through the tugging and that it'll continue to get bigger.

I remember when I was with my ex-boyfriend he was making chainmail (don't ask) using two pairs of needle-nosed pliers. Then, I noticed he had stopped working and was sitting still, looking at me. Thinking he was admiring my beauty or waxing to himself about how lucky he was, I sighed with contentment and continued what I was doing. Then he reached out with his pliers, and plucked the hair growing out of my mole (which, until this point, I had never realized was growing there).

"You know, you could get that removed if you want," he said.

Gee, thanks.

Anyway, that one really hurts and since I pluck the nasty chin hair at the same time as my hag's wart, I fear when they get long and lustrous enough to grip with tweezers. I can feel the chin one with my fingers, though, so it's time for it to go.

I swear my mole is bigger than it used to be.

Ugh, the house saga continues. The sellers want us to pay 2/3 of the new septic, which comes out to about $5k. I have no idea where we would even get that money, not to mention that they broke the friggin thing in the first place by not getting it cleaned for eight years.

I said to Michael that I think it may be worth it to just pay the money because in the long run we'll be happy and won't have to worry about other people being jerks any more.

I still haven't heard back on my situation with my job. I feel like someone somewhere is setting me up for a fall, but I can't substantiate it. I hate this crap.

Of course, there's the added happiness that there's a new policy - all remote employees immediately take a 15% pay cut. Isn't that nice. To "cover expenses," or so they say - funny that remote employees usually cost LESS then in-office ones. What a bunch of bullshit.

So much for ever getting a raise.

I keep seeing myself in my mind's eye with a big red rubber stamp on my forehead: 15% OFF!

It's not the money so much as the indication of worth. Sure, I'm worth 15% less to the company now, should I work from home. Gee, that makes me feel grand.

And to think that the handful of cash that is my 15% reduction is less than the president spends on food for his family when he goes to his Bahamas house for the summer. It must be really tough being a fucking millionaire. Sheesh. His kid has a private VB tutor. I'm sure that guy makes more than me, and he pays it out of his pocket.

Makes me sick, it does.

Anyway, I'm trying really hard not to let this get to me, because I can't do anything to change the fact that other people are shitty. All I can do is my best, and if I have the opportunity to work from Maine, even at a reduced (SALE!) rate, I can use that time to find other options. Try to see the best in things.

My shirt wasn't dried properly and it smells like a foot. Yucky.

Another completely gorgeous day. It so figures.

When I got home last night I put some chicken and a potato in the oven, then headed out to the park to go running. It was a good run, all in all—I did the entire loop the first time around, walked the loop once, then ran and walked about half and half for the third circuit. By that point I had to head home, I was out for about thirty minutes, all told. Today I'm feeling it, I can tell that it's been a while since I last ran (a week?) but it feels good to be sore, frankly.

Listening to 80's mixes today in the hopes that it'll inspire me. In fact, I think I feel better today than I did yesterday. Perhaps the running had something to do with it. I'd like to hope so.

I still haven't heard back from John about working from Maine—I wish I knew one way or the other because now I'm really jonesing to move north as soon as possible. If I can't work remote, I guess I can languish down here for short time while looking for a somewhat substantial job in Maine. I really want to move north now, though. That whole bartending thing is sounding better and better.

I've been eating way too much junk food lately. I was so good about getting back into running for a week or so, but with all of this house buying business there's been so much to do, so much to worry about, not to mention the weather has been hot and oppressive (at least for me). I hate running in hot weather, with those little bugs taking bites out of you.

Maybe I should just buck up and find some bug spray, then get out there. Tonight.

Anyway, add to that the fact that I've been eating a lot of crap. Each time I figure, well, it's not all that much, this little bit won't make any difference, except I'm doing it almost every day. I need to cut it out. I want so badly to lose more weight and be healthy, but then it seems so important to eat a particular thing when the mood strikes. Lately, too, with all the packing we're doing I tell myself that I'll burn it off that way, but I know in my heart of hearts that it's not the way things work.

I've been really bummed out being stuck on this plateau for so long—over six months, now. I was losing weight at a nice clip this time last year, then I plunked down and haven't budged. It's really frustrating. Even the times when I've been committed to exercising regularly, nothing is happening. I know that it's a natural thing, my body adjusting to weight loss, but it doesn't make it any easier.

I know that part of it is likely due to my forgetting my medication all the time. The doctor said that I could go off of it if I wanted, but I also know that until I'm at my goal weight, it will help keep my blood sugar normalized and losing weight will be the same as it is for anyone else.

So.

I need to be religious about my medication again. No more forgetting until after the meal, no more forgetting it in the car, or forgetting it altogether.

I need to get back into the habit of eating things that are good for me. Not so much coffee loaded with sugar, I don't need the caffeine anyway, and drink much more water.

I need to get my ass out there and exercise daily again. No excuses, even with this move I should be taking an hour out to tend to myself.

So much is in flux right now, I find it so hard to concentrate on anything resembling routine. My home is slowly deconstructing around me, and I know in scant days Michael will be leaving for Maine, and then soon after that I'll be going to Terry's house to sleep on her couch while I find out if I can work remote or not.

I can do it, I just need to really want to enough. I thought I would be much further along by this point, and that makes all of my success feel like failure.

We've got this new girl here and I hate to say it but I don't think that she's going to last very long. She was hired as an intern with the research and development guys, but in the time she's been here she seems to be pretty ditzy and flighty. BM stops by about once a day to see how she's doing, and she always seems really confused and not really making any headway. At least, I have no idea what it is she does or has been brought here to do. I hope the best for her, but it's not really clear what use she is.

She also laughs like a dork.

BM sounds somewhat standoffish in his friendliness, the sort of friendly when you're trying to figure someone out. I don't know if that bodes well for her.

What does she DO?

Speaking of not doing anything, as usual I'm waiting on something from TS, and he's not doing a goddamned thing. He keeps telling me how he's waiting on this from one person, and that from another, and that the part he has to do he can get done "really easy." Well, let's hop to it and do it, then, and that's one less thing to worry about. Sigh.

I hate the fact that my success so often hinges on the whims of others. Isn't that always the way?

A trend I've noticed lately - photos of the conflict out East are getting more and more graphic. It seems like Yahoo! is showing all sorts of stuff that even a year ago they never would have allowed. I think I've seen more dead bodies and body parts in the news since September 11 than I ever have in my life. It's a little disturbing.

Overall, I see the morals and the restrictions of our society getting more and more lax. It's even obvious in the last ten years. Weird. I'm not altogether sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing.

I read The Handmaid's Tale this weekend--found it while I was packing and decided to read it. Inside I found a coupon for free admission to the Venus de Milo dance club on Landsdowne Street, expired August 1993. I had to read this book Freshman year at BU, and hadn't opened it since that time. It was written in 1985, so some of the references were pretty dated, but the message is strangely haunting. It reminded me of just how easily things can be done right in front of you, yet you never see it coming. It reminds me of a lot of the crap going on right now, with these emergencies happening at the same time as something more sinister is happening in government. I don't like that feeling. It also reminded me that should something like this happen, there's not always much that can be done about it. I think about that kid who is being held without cause, and I think about the slow bending of the rules that take away our freedoms.

I wonder what I would do if I got up tomorrow morning to find that my bank card no longer worked and my accounts were frozen? That I arrive at my job and I'm told that I can no longer work? What would I do, what could I do? I don't really know.

Scary thought, that.

I think that I often just bury my head in the sand, worry about my own concerns and try not to think about the tenuous hold we as Americans have on our own freedoms. We have all of our faith in the hope that the government won't suddenly decide to harm us, or that someone takes over the government with this intent. It could happen, though--it could happen fairly easily. Rumfeld has said it himself, there's no way we can prevent terrorist attacks, that it's all just a matter of time before we get hit again. What does that say about our national security in general?

This is, in the back of my mind, part of why I want to move to Maine. Farther away from the big cities. Will it be far enough?

What is really going on around here?