bewildering occurrences

So last night after work I hopped on BART as usual. As we rushed-along the tunnel, I began to wonder why it was taking so long to get to Powell, and why my ears were popping.

I realized it was because we were going under the Bay Bridge and were on our way to Oakland instead.

So at the next stop I called Tom because I was afraid I would be a little late for the handyman's visit. (Who was coming at 6 p.m. to install some wiring.)

Tom said ok, he would leave work & get there on time to meet the guy. He then asked the dreaded: "But where are you?"

Against my better judgment, I mumbled "West Oakland".

"May I ask why?"

"I got on the wrong train."

"How did that happen?"

And this went back and forth for an inordinate amount of time which could have been better spent in so many other ways... "I don't understand how you could get on the wrong train going the wrong direction after all these years" and me "well I wasn't paying attention" and him "you need to stop reading and daydreaming at the bus stop" and me "well I am sorry but I really don't think it is the end of the world".

And finally, what other answer could I really give except: "I have absolutely no response."

So that, as my friend Evil would say, is that.

 

Another bewildering occurrence... I seem to have inadvertently been befriended by the O.M...

This is apparently due to my recent compliment of his hairdo (made in desperation during the infamous Post-It-Note Robbery Attempt of 2007).

As I made my usual hurried way past reception to to the elevator this morning, I heard a little voice: "Do you like my new bangs?"

In shock, I turned to the desk. The O.M. was gazing at me, slightly turning his head back and forth to display a new pomade-treatment.

He looked so worried I immediately melted and gushed all over him with compliments. He actually smiled at me.

And he said, and I quote, "I love how you do your bangs too!"

We totally bonded!! (Hope it lasts...) But I feel very beneficient now! I am going to compliment everyone today. I will be like the Saint of Vain Compliments.

(Does this give me VIP rights to the supply cabinet??)

trying to shake it

Sometimes I imagine telling Tom about my blog, so I would be able to write whenever I wanted to at home without suspicion, jealousy, etc. I could write better and more posts (instead of stressfully sneaking them in at work). Most importantly: I would have the freedom to post whenever I felt the need to write.

But if he knew, it might be more trouble than it's worth... If he was reading the blog, I wouldn't be able to write as honestly and freely as I can to you all. But if I did not give him access, he would (naturally) be incredibly hurt.

So I guess there's really no argument. I don't really have the strength to go into huge discussions, arguments, etc. with him about it so I guess I will just remain still.

 

I am desperately missing my old neighborhood... downtown, the 'loin, Russian Hill...

I know the Mission is fabulous, it is great. There is nothing wrong with it. And I realize we are only less than two miles away from our old place.

But I can't hear the foghorns anymore nor do I feel as close to the water. And the view from our windows hold just another house, and the courtyard -- not buildings and streets and trees. The shades have to be pulled most of the time.

I feel so closed-in and lonely. I have got to shake this.

closeted weekend

Not much to write about today... Blah. Spent much of yesterday (Saturday) cowering in the kitchen while a California Closets man went to town in the other rooms... (Tom had to go into work for a while so I was alone.)

Almost SIX HOURS of ripping, drilling, sawing -- I stayed clear to avoid seeing the mess until the last moment possible. And it was a mess; dust everywhere. I had tried to put our flattened moving-boxes down all over to protect the floors and carpet, but it was still an excruciating mess.

And an excruciating wait for me -- I couldn't go anywhere, but I couldn't get in the way either. In between his drilling (and his lengthy, shouted cellphone conversations in Spanish) I watched some terrible TV and went back and forth guiltily trying to offer him water and soda.

But despite the wasted day, the closets are indeed beautiful and much easier to handle now. Lots of great shelves. When Tom got back he helped shovel-out all our stuff from where we'd piled it in the extra room. We vacuumed the carpets, but still have to clean the wood floors today... Otherwise I am in semi-organization-heaven.

Not happy that Monday is coming soon. :(

happy weekend!

So I may have talked too much about pen1ses lately; but I cannot help but post another entry... I've been having to look at an enormous amount of them this week (due to the Web-development I do, as you know, for this company's personals/chat/profile/etc. areas).

But since their poses, displays, etc. are for the benefit of the male-sex, not my own, it has proven to be a strangely scientific duty... I mean, it is funny how the government rules on what constitutes a 'private' or 'adult' photo versus a 'public' or 'g-rated' one. (For example, 'if you touch someone else' it's "G-rated"; however, my dear, 'if you touch yourself' that is "X-rated".)

And my god, the contortions!! I don't know how they can do it. Bless them. And how close-up can you get with a camera!! Sometimes I wonder what is so sensual about it when it the pixels get so out of proportion. I mean, I help the best I can with Photoshop... poor pixels.

Anyway, that is all apart from the fact that my poor head has been swimming with visions of pen1ses all week... (If I was to speak the truth, I've never really found them to have that much allure/attractiveness anyway... Of course, I don't find my own wah-wah that pretty either so I'm not trying to be discriminatory.)

Don't get me wrong, I of course have affection for all things having to do with Tom's body, because of how I feel for him... But over the years, when they do NOT belong to him, body-parts have taken on a surreal, dis-located sort of presence whenever I see them – i.e. movies, online, etc... (Ok, if I'm being really honest, sometimes even his p. does seem a separate-entity from his self... I don't know how to describe it exactly...)

It's very foreign to think about what they must feel like... having that hanging all out there... what does it feel like? Does it really hold and cause that much sensation that it has so much to do with all the things it has to do with in this world?

Anyway, I guess it is Friday and I am babbling. I hope you all have a grand weekend, pen1s or no. xoxoxox

yuck

So I am still feeling unsettled, and gross and angry, and shocked about yesterday morning... I started feeling so sheltered here in this city, like nothing like that could ever happen here... It is like a safe cocoon, and I'm sure I should have yelled or said something...

But I didn't do anything because I was so surprised, frozen and shocked (and deep down, ashamedly, had that familiar feeling like "it is somehow my fault" which is completely asinine. We were both wearing professional business-attire/suits and I understand this was just a very odd, particular thing that happened with nothing to do with my own individual self.)

Anyway, I never even mentioned it to Tom -- because though I know he would have flown into a protective, angry rage, I would see deep-down that prickling he gets... something like "well that's just another thing she will chalk-up against men"... It is hard to describe, because I don't want him to sound bad (because he most definitely is the kindest I have ever met), but I think a lot of the times I have talked about things, or get so emotional, filled with that anger/hate I have, he feels like I am prejudiced against men (in a lot of ways I can unconsciously stereotype because of my background)... Oh I don't want to be that way. I don't think I am though. I am NOT.

But if I don't choose my words right in front of him, they can naturally be hurtful. I mean, I hope I am not like that, I don't think I really am, because I know that everyone is an individual, whether male or female... Just because one guy did that certainly & obviously does not mean everyone is a bad person. (That particular person though, was a real asshole.) I hope I am explaining this right.

 

OH I am over-thinking about this too much... It's not the worst thing in the world. It is so warm and sunny out today, and calm and lovely here by the water. Hard to believe all the other stuff going on in the world outside my little city...

time goes on

At the risk of sounding like a Drama Queen (you're used to it, I'm sure), I just feel like writing about what happened while riding BART to work today... I can't stop replaying it in my head:

Though the commute only takes about 10-15 minutes, I did manage to find a seat (so I could rummage through my purse for such life-threatening items as my current book -- and lipstick).

As I sat there, I felt a jostling-type nudge on my shoulder & arm... But I just kept reading, attributing it to the normal rush-hour crowding (which I am very used to after so many years of public-transit!).

But the feeling just kept pushing, and was very hard & pointy. So I looked up, expecting to see the edge of someone's bag, briefcase, etc....

Instead I saw a male hand, doing a thing in his pants against my arm that I do not want to describe in detail... But I'm sure you know what I mean.

And behind the cover of a his rain-jacket and a the work-day crowd I was completely alone with him.

I was in such shock that I could not look away from 'it' for at least a few seconds.

And then I made the mistake of looking up at his face -- and he was smiling.

I got up and moved away, and I looked back and he was laughing at me. I swear it.

I got off at my Montgomery Street and almost fainted on the escalator -- but did finally make it to the street.... I was so numb and paralyzed with surprise (and ANGER!!!) I scowled and blackened with rage, and pushed at people, and even cried a little.

But then I heard a rushing, breaking-sound near me, and a woman's cigarette-cracked voice yelling "RED!! You are LATE today, girl!!"

And I saw the #10 had stopped -- in the middle of the block which is totally illegal -- because the driver had recognized me, stopped the whole bus, and opened the door.

The driver continued shouting "I was lookin' for you honey, and saw you rumblin' up the street!! Glad I caught you!"

I jumped onto the bus (to avoid walking those last five blocks) and found myself standing in front of a sea of smiling, laughing passengers... I searched and I could not find one grouchy-face amongst them.

Without thinking, I turned to her and said "I love you!"

And she said "Honey, I love you too. But hold on!"

And I was at the office in two minutes.

Time just keeps going on, doesn't it?

damn!

Oh don't forget about me, my friends... Work is *#&%ing hectic this week (and computer at home isn't working again)... I will try and call another friendly tech-support agent later this evening (and post something better soon!) xoxox

crushes and kisses

OH! OH I just read about it. Ohhhh. Goodbye to the lovely Deborah Kerr; how you have cheered and been with me my whole life!! I am just enamored every time I see you on the screen. I could just sob I am so blue.

 

An equally gloomy-day in SF accompanies this news; though the sun is coming out now.

Also very sleepy; was on the phone for almost THREE hours with AT&T tech-support last night. Our DSL wasn't working yet and Tom 'designated' me for the duty.

I began by swearing under my breath in irritation & frustration; this tech-stuff is completely beyond me. I didn't know how I was going to undertake such a task, let alone fix it... But I ended up speaking to a woman who actually helped me DO IT!!

Even though it took three hours, it could have been longer... You see, I discovered she was talking to me from the Phillipines, and it was 10:30 a.m. her-time (7:30 p.m. mine). She lives near the beach and cool clubs, and we were so caught-up chatting about SF and the Phillipines, and how we each wanted so to visit where the other lives, her aunt works at SF General here, and about what was going on, the nightlife there, her boyfriend, my face-cream, what should we do about certain shampoos, etc., Tom came into the room around 10:30 p.m., mouthing: "What are you doing? Get off the phone!!!"

So that was that. I just became so completely attached to her I was thinking about it all night. I will fly there and we will be best friends.

Ok... but in reality: I still didn't do exactly right, something to do with our only getting the modem to work, and not the router... (The latter having to do with Tom's laptop's ability to work with the DSL.) Now he wants me to call the router company's support-line... I don't know if I can stand it. I may end up emigrating.

 

Then: Upon going to bed, Tom says "Did you put your mouthguard in?" (DAMMit!!! Goddamn that thing, how I despise it.)

I did have it in hand, at-the-ready; however, was waiting (as usual, in vanity) for him to turn off the light and close his eyes. I said "I was just waiting so you didn't see me in it!" And he said "I have seen you in every which-way, please put it in." And I, in desperation, replied "But what if you wanted to French-kiss or something! I was just checking."

Now, Tom is not a man who is one for kissing much (which is fine by me as I am not that good at it anyway). So he then exclaimed: "'French-kiss'???? What are you, ten??!!"

And we did kiss a bit and that is all good with me.

But this brought on a slew of laughter which I will not hear the end of for the rest of the weekend, for certain. (And he did leave this morning by saying "Goodbye, hope we can 'French-kiss' again soon", laughing hysterically.)

I thought that was the correct word for it? Am I crazy?

therapeutic

(Disclaimer: As I mentioned before, I am NOT saying anything against those who find therapy helpful; it is just not for ME, personally.)

So. I am attempting to consolidate my complaints into some sort of format for our twice-monthly session tomorrow night. I feel like I am always just sitting there, 'taking it', so to speak... So I figured I should at least SAY something because I always end up feeling like your typical Evil-RedHeaded-Stepchild. (Though I am not a stepchild, but I am a redhead... And as for 'evil', well, that's TBA.)

I wonder how long I will have to go through this. (Has been a year now this past May, for crissakes!!) I understand this is important because it is making Tom feel better/comfortable. (I know it helps him feel more secure.)

Sometimes, in the back of my mind, I will be thinking: WHEN will he finally discover that I am not worth it? When will he get tired of this? When will he leave me? When will he realize he can do so much better? I live in constant fear.

So you see, I have just talked myself into trying to have a better attitude.

But the other side of myself is thinking: Since he sometimes goes on about what's wrong with me, well fuck!! I ought to bring up why he made me cry last Sunday! Why he hurt my feelings on Monday!! Why did he talk so sharply to me on Tuesday!! (And unrelated: Why do I feel like I'm dying inside most of the time when I'm at the office!!)

And I always prepare myself to do that... But when I get there I never say anything -- because I get too tongue-tied and shy. (And I start thinking about the war and Darfur and homeless children and dogs, and my problems are certainly not important in comparison...)

I am exaggerating a bit; the discussion doesn't always revolve around me. In fact, it has been getting a bit better lately. She often focuses more on just main 'couple' things, as time goes on and my troubles get farther into the past.

And Tom is just doing it because he cares and he loves me and wants me to be ok.

So fuck. I resolve to better my attitude today!! Anyway, why am I always so worried about it. It's not till tomorrow, it goes fast... Ugh.

misc. goings-on

A passing co-worker just commented: "So good, for once, to come in and not see a stack-trace on your screen!" Perhaps a good sign for the day...? (Or perhaps he is just an arse.)

Another co-worker has wallpapered my cube-partition (they aren’t walls really, just little half-partition thingies you can see over) with some elaborate, pink-flowered fabric. He says it matches my phone and Ipod-case. I wasn’t sure what I thought of this upon arrival , as I have been trying to keep a low profile... But I decided it is very pretty... And he is a very sweet & nice guy, actually. (Though he pretended I was joking when I asked if he could make me a skirt from it too. Hmmph!!)

 

Have another six-hour meeting tomorrow for our next 'scrum'.

WHOA -- can I be more excited about that? I don’t know!! I may pee!!

Seriously, though, I will just daydream throughout the entire meeting. (However: I have GOT to think of something more original to daydream about than... oh I can't say, it's too embarrassing. But I really must think of something new though!)

 

Ugh, this day... Even the weather is melancholy. After a sun-filled week we have cloudy, rainy skies today. Blah!!

Very irritated about many things and fights from the past few days... Am trying to compose an entry about it all -- but without sounding like a total bitch. But it is hard.

(You see, most times, without this & you all, I feel like I am just going to explode.)

I tried to vent by yelling swear-words in our building’s (sound-proof) elevator this a.m., but it didn’t help... and I accidentally kicked-out a wall panel in the process. (Cheap bastards!)

Hope you are having a good week so far, my friends!! xoxoxo

on happiness

Sometimes I wish I'd met Tom when we were little - and we could have grown up together. (I often mention this to him, and he teases: "I wouldn't have liked you".)

I know that despite preventing lots of troubles and heartache (on my end, anyway), it is for the best that we met later in life. I might have become a totally different person – a person he might not like now (a person I might not like now!!). Oh who the fuck knows.

Anyway, though he complains sometimes, he does somehow infer (I get the inferences through bits-&-pieces, I swear) that he loves me because of how I am, because of how I've become who I am... (Like the song goes, "The things that make you hate me, make you love me too".)

I sometimes hear about girls who compare the number of guys they sleep with with each other... Now, I might be an old-lady but I really hate to hear about things like that. And if I myself try to think about it, I completely lose track... There is no humanly possible way to count. I mean, we are talking an incredible, disgusting, shameful number here – in the hundreds? Maybe.

 

I think sometimes that I miss many things, and am very unhappy. I miss going out, being outgoing, socializing, being the life-of-the-party, being home by 4 and at work by 6, packing my panties and face-soap and fishnets every day I go to the office, all eyes on me every time I go into a bar or club. Forgetting the name of the person I'm meeting after work until I get to the spot, forgetting who I'm talking to on the phone. The smoothness of my skin and face... The energy I used to have. The humor. The cocktails.

But there are many things I do NOT miss... like waking up on a Sunday morning alone, having to shower in the dishwashing-section of the restaurant I worked at the night before, the degradation, the sadness, the pressure, the hatred of everything... Never being able to walk down the street ‘incognito'...

I am glad I am now working at an office, in front of a computer, like a real professional lady. Being able to wear whatever I feel like, like flowery, colorful, loose dresses instead of tight, black, uncomfortable things. Not getting picked-apart, being ashamed and lonely so much... not sitting by the phone for hours on a New Year's Eve, or even a Friday night, desperate and hating and sobbing because some asshole-guy didn't call me back.

 

Of course there are always good and bad about both sides of things. I know most bad things have been of my own doing/fault. And yes, I have many problems now -- paralyzing insecurities, crippling shyness, nightmarish memories, etc... But I have a beautiful home to go to. I live in a beautiful city. I have a paycheck. I have Tom.

But I sometimes wonder if things are better for Tom; as he seems to be constantly on the worry -- and/or annoyed, or hurt. Like when we walk down the street past bars he used to take me to, when I check my e-mail, when I am in the bathroom too long, when we are at a crowded restaurant, when I stutter, or cry, or when I forget myself and swear-up a storm.... Sometimes he gets so grouchy and impatient, and annoyed at me...

Worried that I am not content/happy, perhaps? (It's almost like he thinks I might not be mentally there in the present-moment sometimes -- like I am there physically, but not really there... does that make sense? But I AM!! Why can't he see? I try to explain that he is my world. But he often shrugs that off. I know his anxiety it is my fault.)

I try to be understanding and I know I just have to wait it out, maybe even wait in the other room sometimes, and just let him feel better, steam-off... I mean, I get annoyed sometimes too. It is hard to live with someone. (Especially me, I am certainly not the greatest, that is for sure!)

And I go off and do my volunteer work, and I though I do enjoy it and those kids are my heart, I know I am in part doing it for very selfish reasons: To show I am doing something worthwhile outside of sitting at this desk, to show Tom I have 'goodness', for appearances, to show-off. I know I am selfish because I like hanging out with little kids who always act like I am the greatest thing since Hungry-Hungry-Hippo and grilled-cheese. They are easy to please and to love and they treat me the same. I don't know even if Tom notices I do it much anymore except sometimes to complain I should spend more time with him at home. But I have in my head sometimes "I volunteer"!! Which is not why you should do it, obviously. It is so stupid.

 

But I don't know what else I can do after these past 6+ years but keep trying to do my best, and do whatever I can to show and prove to him that I love him more than life itself. (And even more than Elvis.)

clouds of confidence

First of all, I would like to give a shout-out to DORIS LESSING!! Who just won the Nobel Prize for Literature!! (She has been one of my most constant companions over the years, whether aware of it or not!!)

 

SO!! The parentals have returned to their suburban Portland environment. Tom & I have proceeded to make-love in every room that we can of the condo. (At least till he got tired; we still have a room or two to go.)

In other news: I didn't have time to update yesterday as I had to leave early for another "appointment"!! a.k.a. JOB INTERVIEW!!

I spent careful time coordinating nice dress-pants with socks, and folding a blazer reserved for interviews only (would not be caught dead in it otherwise) into a bookbag (so as to hide from Tom; who would have noticed right away). I snuck my portfolio in there too and was on my fabulous way.

So, we will see how it goes. They kept complimenting my resume, and I just felt like I was doing really well, and speaking very impressively -- not so frozen-in-fear like I sometimes get.

I walked out on a high cloud of confidence.

Until I noticed, a block away, that my pants were unzipped.

things NOT do do while moving

THINGS NOT To Do During a Move * --
* Especially when witnesses include (but are not limited to) the following: A Know-It-All Husband; an Alpha-Female Mother; and a Father Who Hangs Back In Silent Discomfort.

• Move any part of furniture or decorative vase ... Doesn't matter where you think it might look best; you are wrong. Best thing to do is walk around, pick things up, and put them back -- exactly where you found them. (Very important that you appear as if you are doing something.)
  
  
• Scratch a newly, painstakingly painted wall... Doesn't matter with what -- in fact, you might never know, nor might ever have been in the room at all. It is STILL your fault. (You will overhear countless remarks of "Don't let her pile things near the wall!!! What is she doing in there -- scratching the wall again???)
  
  
• Drop a piece of bruschetta - face-down - on a new area-rug... The purchase and padding of which was cause of terrible argument: "Each side must be equal!! Measure each side!! You'll be sorry!!" ... "Each side IS equal; I know what I'm doing!!!" (Doesn't matter how much you apologize or scrub; this will never be forgotten, and you will be banished to the bedroom, sans bruschetta.)
  
  
• Get nervous ... You will do accidental things like: Fling a dirty fork across the kitchen floor; grab your husband's hand at an inopportune time; say 'where is my towel?' during a bathroom-painting session; throw the new garage-door opener down the trash shute.
  
  
• Hide in the back-room to watch the E-channel ... (Similarily: Hide in the closet with a book.) You will be subject to mass incriminations, and most likely end up crying in the bathroom ... (It doesn't matter that they are all 'experts' and you are not; you are still expected to do things, screw up, and let them get annoyed at you.)
  
  
• Make any kind of complaint whatsoever ... In fact, do not say ANYTHING at all, under ANY circumstances!! If a light is broken, if the dishwasher does not work, if your best shoes are missing -- don't say a thing. (Unless you want to be hit with "You are NEVER happy!!! What is your problem?" Or the best: "YOU probably did it!!")
  
  
• Give money to a little girl on the corner... Doesn't matter that she is six years-old, by herself, telling you her candy bar sales profit a group that "helps kids like me find places to live"... You will endure countless remarks like "She spent TWO dollars on a candy bar!!!! She even went back and bought another!!!"... (Doesn't matter that you are hundreds of thousands in debt, and four extra dollars don't really matter. ALSO: Do not sneak out later to buy more; you will be caught.)
  
  
• Make two long marks on the wall while un-plugging your hairdryer ... Now, that is just stupid... try not to do that.
  

the pits

Sorry for bad updating this week; I promise to get back on track after moving this weekend. I am in the PITS. I am lousy. Blah!

Here is an interesting company-wide e-mail we all received at work today:

"It was brought to my attention that an adult publication was found in one our men's restrooms yesterday. While it was actually one of our own magazines, from our adult division, it is not acceptable to have or leave adult oriented materials in public view, in the office. Thanks for your attention."

HA!!! I didn't do it. I swear.

cannot stand myself

OH this week sucks. I haven't much time to update (with anything interesting, anyway) as I have a huge deadline at work on Friday.

Plus with moving and all... As I mentioned, my parents are in town to help. We should be completely in by Friday. Painting, movers, cleaning -- everything should be almost done by then.

Work sucks. Moving sucks. This week sucks.

Sorry for my attitude.

I am going through one of those times where I cannot stand anyone to touch me at all, in any way whatsoever. I am constantly feeling like I will either explode or black-out.

I try, for appearances, to take the occasional hug; but I fear they can feel my stiffness, my anxiousness to get away.

I am hurting people's feelings, those who have been the kindest to me in my whole life. And Tom -- I canNOT STOP MY MOUTH. I say these little, offhand, hurtful remarks sometimes... I cannot stop myself. I don't know why I do it. It just fucking comes out.

Why do I have to take out all my rage on him sometimes? (Though I am certainly not as bad as when we first met. I mean, sometimes he has even had to tell me to leave him alone, I am all-over him, smothering him in adoration too much. So I was getting better.)

But now, I feel myself starting to do it all again. Is it because I am starting to believe he really won't leave me? And I just have to do something fucking stupid? I don't know how to explain how much he means to me, and how grateful to him, and how much I love him, and how much I appreciate him and would die without him... So I end up just being a total cruel bitch sometimes.

I mean, my whole life I have wanted so badly to be a good person, and do good things. But then I've ended up doing such bad things, such stupid things... And why? Because I am lazy? Because of something innately mean about me? It is like I am some kind of freakin' cartoon character.

I'm sure after all this outside stress goes away I will get better. But that is not an excuse. I often wonder what in the world must Tom think of me? Well I know somewhat from those stupid sessions twice-a-month, but whatever --

Because this is what I think: No matter what you have gone through in your life, it is no excuse to be mean to another person like Tom, who shows you every kindness and sticks by you no matter what, who you just worship the ground he walks on.

So there are no excuses. I simply cannot stand myself. I just don't know what to do.

my own private san francisco

Annoying &#*%ING things from the weekend include TOM!!! Hounding me at every spare moment with this phrase: "PACK your BOOKS!!! Or I will THROW THEM OUT!!"

So!!! My scatterbrained head (plus my innermost Monk), ended up going over and over again how to correctly "box" my books... I mean, HOW can this be humanly possible!!!

Puhh-leeeeaaaase!! I have them in shelving-order!! And I have more than one shelving/stacking area!!! Should I re-order alphabetically? I have them grouped-by author, but not alphabetically BY author... (I have them in my own special order!!) And those on the top-shelf are grouped differently than those on the next and following shelves... How can I label such boxes?

I have no guarantees, people, that I am going to be present when these books are unpacked. First off, will the spine's titles remain in the same direction?

And how will I know that the second-to-top horizontal stack (on TOP of the books on the SECOND shelf) are the books I'm going to read NEXT?!!! I have these particular books in a special stacking-order of when I want to read them!! In order of purchase, of what I want to read first, of what I have read before....

They are IN ORDER!!!! FOR CRISSAKES!!!

Why can't we just transport the bookshelves AS IS??? WithOUT taking the books out of them?

WHY!!! Why.

 

I salvaged some relief from from watching party-goers pass through my 'hood on their way to the Folsom Street Fair this weekend; see photos & article here.

OH how I love San Francisco!!