the sloppy copy

Ch-ch-ch-CHANGES!

1. I got a new oven. I got home from work on Monday, saw that the clock on my oven was on, said “Yay, they fixed my oven,” and that was that. THEN when I woke up the next day I was all like “Man, Imma cook some bacon because THE STOVE WORKS NOW! Then I saw that there was a chip in the top of it. “They must’ve chipped it when they moved it,” I thought, assuming at this point that the oven had been “fixed” by unplugging it and plugging it back in. Then I looked closely at the burner. “Wow, that looks a lot cleaner than I remember.” Then, slowly, it dawned on me. Is it? Could it be? There was only one way to find out… I opened the oven itself.

It was fuckin’ IMMACULATE. Absolutely NO apple pie filling baked on ANYWHERE, which might have been an issue with the last one. Ahem.

In short: YESSSSSSSSSS.

P.S. It works like an absolute dream. It pre-heats in what feels like milliseconds but is more likely just a normal length of time for fully-functioning ovens. And did I mention it’s clean? Spic-and-freaking-span, y’all. Just beautiful.

2. I got new windows! And I didn’t even have to break the old ones first! As part of some complex-wide improvifications, every single apartment in every single building got new windows. Flippin’ sweet, guys. The tentative install date for my building was Monday (or Oven Day as it shall be known henceforth), and we were instructed to move everything away from the windows in order to give the guys room to work. Seeing as my bed is right next to the window, and I assumed they’d start work at Ass o’ Clock, I leaned the frame and box spring up against the bedroom wall and moved the mattress itself into the living room to sleep. This way, I figured if they came barging in at the aforementioned Unholiest of Hours (see: any time before 10:00 am), I wouldn’t have to scramble to get things out of the way.

Except they didn’t show up on Monday.

Or Tuesday.

Delayed by rain (and, oh, the fact that there were approximately 34938 windows to install first – my building was last on the agenda), they arrived Wednesday. Meaning, I slept on the mattress on the floor for three nights. Which, for the record, was AWESOME. Something about being directly on the floor, sans box spring, somehow made the bed much more comfy. Also, I had it pushed into the L where the sofa and loveseat meet, making my entire living room one big multi-level bed-like surface. And if that ain’t a dream come true, I don’t know what to tell ya, other than you’re probably not an inherently lazy person who is excited by the prospect of sleeping in a sunken next of every blanket and pillow you own. Also, you’re a weirdo.

When the window bros arrived at last, Bro #1 was quick to thank me for moving my furniture out of way, claiming I’m the only one who did it. Bro #2 was weirded out by the mattress in the living room, asking if I’d had a slumber party the night before. I laughed, thinking he was joking, and told him yes. Then he asked if I had kids or something, and I realized we were no longer on the same page. Get off my back, Window Bro. Just be happy I didn’t make you move that heavy-ass kitchen table. You’re welcome, and don’t judge the Blanket Pit. It’s the goddamn comfiest thing you’ll ever experience in your entire life and that is absolutely not an exaggeration. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make some cookies, because I HAVE AN OVEN THAT WORKS.

On Thursday I baked heated up some ciabatta rolls for sandwiches. I fried up some bacon, sautéed up some chicken, bought some fresh spinach, sliced up some tomatoes… Sandwich nirvana, let me tell ya. I took the bread out of the oven and set it on the counter while I finished the bacon. Then I turned around to slice up the bread and noticed whoops! Forgot to turn off the oven! I do this a lot. I once left my oven on for, um, over 24 hours.* So I went to switch it off except…it was already off. Odd.

I fiddled with the dial again, remembering the time that the knob broke on Juanita’s dryer and how we had to jiggle it around in order to get the dryer to do what we wanted. Before the rest of the parts caught up and the entire dryer eventually died, we’d all just learned that when it was in the “off” position, it was actually on “normal dry.” So I twisted my oven dial around a few times and even tried to push it in – which is not how it has EVER worked, but desperate times, eh? – and still nothin.’

Iiiiinteresting.

At this point, I was genuinely lost. What the fuck was I supposed to do? I posted a Facebook status to that effect, then realized that the oven can’t be on if it doesn’t have power. So I flipped the breaker (thank JESUS that particular breaker isn’t tired to ANYTHING else). Meanwhile, I got a trillion responses to my post – almost all of them to the effect of “well, if you never stop USING the oven, it won’t be a problem if it won’t turn off. So bake me some cookies. Thanks.” Meanwhile, I tried to flip the breaker again and I’ll be damned if the oven didn’t just turn back on.

Well, shit.

Because keeping the breaker in the off position seemed to fix the issue, I didn’t see it necessary to call Maintenance Bro after hours to take a look. But that was before I realized that it’d be Monday (today) before I’d be able to get ahold of him during “normal” hours.

Long story short: hopefully it gets fixed today, or (best case scenario) the whole thing is shot and I get a new oven…

*In my defense, it was the day before T’s wedding and I’d just made cupcakes for the reception and was also hosting another bridesmaid at my apartment and it was TOTES MAGOTES CRAY CRAY ALL UP IN MY HIZZY.  I got back home after the reception and, yep. Oven was still on. At least it was November. Otherwise I’m sure the paint would have been melting off of the walls. Aaaanyway.

…but when I do, it’s because of days like Thursday.

For me, things seem so much more Worst Case Scenario at night. Your doorbell rings at 2:00 am and it’s the scariest thing you’ve ever heard.* The phone rings at 4:00 am and it’s certainly Terrible News. You get yourself caught up in a bummer of a mood and there’s no sunshine to go outside and bask in and zap away all the icky thoughts. That’s partially what happened to me Thursday. And while a surprise 90-minute phone conversation at about 2:30 am (NOT Terrible News**) helped to alleviate it, I think sleep was the primary cure.

I woke up the next morning (er, later that morning, I guess). The sun was shining, it was a beautiful day, and I’d been granted the sweet relief and fresh perspective that only several hours of sleep could provide me.

I’m mostly posting this because I’m certain I’m not the only one who experiences this. Not every day (holy SHIT that would be terrible!), but at least once in a while, yes? I’ve got a Wikipedia-fueled theory that this is some sort of neuro-chemical reaction, as our brains are pretty sensitive to changes in daylight. If you’re feeling particularly nerdy, read about the suprachiasmatic nucleus. It’s the thing in our brains that regulates our circadian rhythm. Very interesting. Uh, to me at least.

That’s really all I got. Just wanted to check back in and let all three of you know that I’m doin’ aight now.

*When I was a kid, the doorbell at my parents’ house once went through a fit of malfunctioning during which it would ring by itself, sometimes in the middle of the night. It was as if it got pressed in, and several hours later would pop back out and activate the chime. It was a little creepy during the day…SUPER creepy during the night.

**This is a great benefit of having more and more friends who are night owls. I no longer break out into a cold sweat when my phone rings that late. Of course, I’m often up already.

I thought myself into a hole tonight. Has that ever happened to you? Man, it’s the worst. One little thing leads your brain to another little thing and on and on until it’s the end of the goddamn world.

The worst part of it all? You know it’s all bullshit. You know that, under different circumstances – the moon, the tide, your brain chemistry, what you fucking ate for breakfast – if any of that were different, you’d be fine. Water off a duck’s back. But instead all these little thoughts are snagged like burrs on your brain and you can’t shake them. Actually, shaking makes it worse.

And then maybe someone tries to engage you, but too bad for them because your brain is just not having it. And you try to fight your way through this mental quicksand but man, it’s exhausting.

I have absolutely no indication that I won’t have my shit straight by tomorrow, but for now: ugh. Just ugh.