January 4, 1999
Working on it, over a mug of Celestial Seasonings Honey Lemon Ginseng Green Tea. This is an experiment: a *substitute* for my late-lamented Fast Lane Tea, which is either simply not available here in California, or else has poofed entirely from the nation's grocery shelves. It's too soon to tell whether I'm going to like the green tea as much as I liked good old super-triple-caffeinated-"Sleep-is-overrated-anyway"-Fast-Lane ... but I'm adaptable. (If I can get used to sunshine in January, I can get used to anything.) As planned, I am jumping right back into the job-hunting effort this morning ... faxing my résumé to anything that looks even remotely promising. (Read this: any job that doesn't involve poultry products and/or Spandex.) But I'll try and get a journal entry thrown onto the website before the end of the day ... even if it's nothing more than a lame recap of the weekend's events. In the meantime, click here to read that last fabulous entry ... and then check back later.
Later That Day:
It's amazing how much life has changed since we had the gas turned on last week.Early this morning David slipped out of bed while I was still asleep and turned on the heat. When we got up, a couple of hours later, the entire Castle was toasty-warm. And while he showered for work, I boiled water and made instant oatmeal (for him) and green tea (for moi). None of this would have been possible a couple of months ago. It's all very cool. In a sweet, nerdy, domestic sort of way.
Virtually overnight, The Castle has become functional. Warm and cozy, even. No longer merely a place to sleep and shower and eat cheap Chinese food from styrofoam containers. David and I are as goonily pleased with ourselves as two little kids sitting in a tree fort. Having the gas turned on has already changed our routine. Grocery shopping Sunday morning, for instance, was a new brand of adventure. Instead of loading up the cart with lunchmeat and cold cereal and salad-in-a-bag and other stuff that doesn't require actual cooking, we bought stuff to make spaghetti with! And ... green beans! And tea! And oatmeal! Then we lugged all of our precious groceries home and found places for them in the cupboards, and fiddled with the ugly pink stove a bit, trying to locate the &*$% broiler -- we finally found it, in a separate drawer underneath the oven -- and in the evening David cooked for us, steak and mushrooms and potatoes. It took longer than expected to broil the steak -- it was as though the pink stove was loathe to cooperate with us, after all the nasty things I've written about it -- but when everything was ready, we sat on the bed and ate, looking at each other in pleased stoopidity. ("Look! We're eating a BAKED POTATO!")