Still nothing in the mail,

August 15th 2001 at 4:56 pm

Still nothing in the mail, and my fingernails have gotten to that point where I need to clip them down again. They make a fingers down the chalkboard kinda feel for me when I use my washcloth.

And since we’re talking about long nails; last night on my dinner break (5-6, then back to work again) the can opener failed to do its job on my Chef Boyardee (sp?) Cheese Ravioli. Well, it broke the seal slightly on the edge, so I could smell the ravioli. I hadn’t eaten all day, so I got real focused on opening that can. At first I thought the lid (this is one of those cool can openers that cuts the edge and leaves no jagged areas) was just sticky, and kept trying to use my fingernail to pop it off. I bent my nail backwards and screamed like a girl in a horror flick about to be killed. This got a bit personal. I tried bashing the can against the concrete on the driveway (no there was no other can opener), and stabbing it multiple times with a knife. I tried to use a can punch (you know, like for cans of juice), but it was bent weird and didn’t work. Who the hell keeps a bent can puncher in their drawer?

I finally gave up and made mac&cheese, but was in a real foul mood.

Then of course, I tried the can opener on the dog good after work, and it worked just fine.

Chey Boyardee can kiss my ass. First that really nasty Chicken Alfredo in a can, then this. Yes, my problem is that I’m eating dinner out of a can, but by the time I get back from work and walk the dog, I have 25-30 minutes to cook and eat dinner before I have to book it back to work. Oh well.

In keeping with my write-every-night thing, I did 712 words last night on Penzance Grrl. I did 500 words the night before. I’m aiming for 200 words a night. I just have to sit down and get 200 words, then I can go to bed. It seems to be working. It’s just very much different from my previous burst-drought method where I would stay up for a whole night or two days in a row and write like mad, then take lots of time off.

But hey, whatever works, right?

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