Party like it's 1999. Or read some stuff.
Friday! I am excited even though my weekend plans are basically:
(1) work on thesis,
(2) work on thesis outside in the sunshine,
(3) eat Easter candy and deviled eggs (though not necessarily together), and
(4) hang curtains.
God, I'm boring. But, I am excited to get some work done on this effing pain in the ass of a thesis, if by thesis I mean pile of random notes and xeroxes I don't remember/understand. I'm a real academic, yeah.
Last night was the husband's rock show. I avoided making an ass of myself like I did last Saturday. However, I couldn't resist just one or two asstastic opportunities. Josh, the guitar player, broke a string during the first song, which prevented the band from going straight into its second song, which caused kind of a lull. They were all fiddling with levels and tuning for a few minutes. Seth, trying to fill the silence, said into the mike, "My equipment is fine." Of course, I had to shout out, "Yeah it is!" How could I not? You can't say something about your "equipment," and not expect me to act like a fourteen year-old. Ah well.
So, weekend! Tonight, we'll probably just relax at home because we're cheap, tired and lazy. We didn't get home until 1:30 last night, which might as well be 4 in the morning in Emily-world.
Tomorrow, the band is recording. I might drop by because the studio is really nice and they have free snacks and a kick-ass coffee machine. Oh, and to check on the band and all that, I guess (coffee machine). I'm heading down to my university library, about an hour away, to lock myself in a study room and work. Or to make copies of convoluted criticism, sit outside on the knoll, and flip distractedly through said copies. Whatever.
Saturday night, hopefully I'll have gotten enough done on the "thesis" that I can go out. I have a feeling the recording stuff may go into the night, I don't know.
Sunday is Easter, and we've already discussed the ham-related festivities, so I'll spare you my re-hashing of that. Except to say that I really don't want to go to church. I don't have an "Easter dress," and the church Seth's parents attend sucks and drains every tiny shred and glimmer of spirituality out of my very soul, leaving me a hollow, empty, depressed husk of a woman. I'm just saying.
Well, enough of that.
Here are some pictures of tubs I want. Feel free to buy me any of them.
This one is nice:
Or maybe a double-ended one (sorry about the big-ass picture, and also, what's up with the wood paneling? Is it a barn tub?Then again, I have salmon tile myself.):
This one is actually old. It's not a reproduction:
Well, off to lunch. I hear my whiny coworker explaining his screen-saver of his sister's acrylic painting of a catfish (so serious. Wish I was kidding) to poor hapless librarian Sally, and I must leave before I am next.