Nothing in Particular

Well, I'm actually only blogging because otherwise I will have to continue cleaning...which, for a change, I'm actually doing.  Mainly because I haven't got any movie work, although I got a heads up from Boardwalk for an overnight on Friday which I hope happens, and the law firm is ignoring me altogether, so I've just been sitting around doing damn near nothing.

I've discovered the reason that I'm currently not sleeping well, by the way.  Evidently that damn Chelsea apartment is still following me around (mentally, I mean).  I seem to be desperately afraid that someone will come and inspect this apartment, because people did come in and out of the Chelsea place...caulking things for smoke, giving me smoke eradicator sprays, etc., etc., and I always felt they were spying on me.  Which they probably were.  This feeling is still in the back of my head, evidently...and it's taken me this long to track it down and isolate it so I can do something about it.  The something I'm doing, obviously is cleaning.  And no, I can't see any possibility that anybody around here is going to come and inspect my apartment or anything else...it's just my weird brain.  And there's no reason I can't clean the damn place...one bathroom, one bedroom, one kitchen, one living room.  So I'm doing it, in the hope I'll sleep better.  Brains are strange.

Meanwhile, I'm off to Chicago for a few days in October.  My cousin Cathy and her husband Charlie are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary, for God's sake.  I was thinking about boycotting the whole thing because I'm STILL pissed at her about that hideous...truly, truly HIDEOUS...electric blue satin dress she made me wear, but I thought that would be mean spirited.  However, I can't answer for myself if she has actual pictures of me in that thing.  Anyway, I haven't been home in years, and I've got a lot of pals to see.  It should be fun, and Chicago's gorgeous in October.

I had more fun watching the opening of the Olympics.  The British really are flying insane.  That notion of my beloved Queen parachuting into the Olympic stadium was more than worth the price of admission...and with James Bond, yet.  I always knew she had a sense of humor.  And I loved the totally batty number with the sick kids in hospital beds, with dancing doctors and nurses, Voldemort, Dementors, Mary Poppins (lots of them) and that bizarre giant baby.  A tribute to the National Health Service.  Of COURSE.  Naturally.   And next fall, I'm going to London, my favorite place in the world, come hell or high water.  I wanted to go this year, but the combination of the Queen's Jubilee AND the Olympics defeated me.  Imagine trying to get a hotel room.  Or a flight.  Or any other damn thing. 

Meanwhile, my kitchen is almost done...I actually organized the cabinets into something more logical.  I'm quite proud of myself.  When I moved in, I naturally (it being close to Christmas) just threw things into cabinets, which ended me up with the food stuck right next to the stove, where it shouldn't be.  So I've fixed that, and put the things I rarely use on high shelves, and cleaned the stove (oh, all right, the top of the stove...let's not get carried away, shall we?), cleaned off the counters, and I'm quite proud of myself.  Now I'm going to mop the floor and call it a day.  I'll attack the bathroom tomorrow.

Love, Wendy