I know, I know. I'm at work. I promise, I'm working. I've done quite a number of things today.

So. In other weekend news, the R.C. had a date, which is the first for either of us for quite some time, so hooray for her!

Me? I had a Bathroom Flood and wound up scrubbing the heck out of my bathroom floor for two hours on Saturday morning. Bah.

New clothes! I mentioned that I bought five shirts on Saturday, but I didn't wax rhapsodic about them.

Well, okay, they're not that amazing, but it's nice to think that after I get my laundry done I'll finally have enough shirts to wear. (I fear I shopped unwisely at that at least two of them are going to need to be ironed after washing, but we'll hope for the best.)

I don't know why three of my other ones shrank in the wash last time, it's not like I haven't washed them before, but they did and now they don't quite button around my anatomy. I wish I knew someone I could give them to. They're hardly worn at all and it seems a shame. Ah well...I can Goodwill them.

I hate that, you know. I have to buy shirts in "large" to get them around my chest comfortably, even though I wear a medium or small on the bottom. That means my shirt look sloppy because they're always too big across the shoulders. (Of course, on the positive side, when I ballooned up in the last few years, the size of my chest helped balance the size of my butt to a large extent. If I'd been, for instance, an 'A' cup, I'd have looked like a plum balanced on a cantaloupe, which is just ridiculous.) (And if I keep visiting the Whole Foods Pastry department every 48 hours, I may again be grateful for the excess of my anatomy.)

Still. Shirts. Lavender, red, and black, all long-sleeved and all "weskit" style, which means they have darts (an almost unseen thing any more) and ride just at the top of my hips, which is a nice-looking length for the office. And two more, black and purple, designed to be worn under a jacket. I never wear a jacket but I fell in love with this shirt (hence buying it in two colors) so I'll have to look for one (a jacket).

I also need to dig through my cedar chest for those sweaters I splurged on last fall. Right after I bought them, of course, I started Flashing, but I have hopes that now I'm Thoroughly Medicated, at least some of them will be light enough to wear. Those also, if I remember correctly, largely featured black, white, and purple. One was gray and pink, too. They were all fabulous, anyhow, and I'm bitter that I never got to wear them. What ever happened to cold weather in winter? And, with central heating, if you go inside at any time, it's 80 degrees no matter what the temperature is outside.

The Mood Swings, I'm happy to report, are almost completely under control these days. I still have Psychotic Interludes, but they generally last about fifteen seconds and I'm learning to spot the onset and clamp down on myself. I have longer Bouts of Bitterness, but those aren't dangerous. There's a lot of mumbling, but that's about it.

Pondering the coming unemployment situation, I find myself behaving like Kathering Hepburn in Desk Set. I keep looking at things on and around my desk and mentally labeling them, "mine, mine, mine (possibly), and wondering how I'm going to get them home and what to do with them once I get them there.

Yes, the R.C. and I have finally firmly settled that we need to move to a place with more space. Now all I have to do is find such a space in a part of town we'd like to live in, and then convince them to find a until opening up next May and promise it to us. (Yeah, we could move before then, but we already have to pay rent and a deposit on the new place, plus hire someone to move us, so why go to the expense of paying an extra month's rent where we are, which is what it will cost us to break the lease? Especially if I'm unemployed in the meantime, you know?)

Three bedrooms, at a minimum, and two bathrooms. In my wildest fantasies, I dream about finding a townhouse for rent, one of those with two or three levels and a bedroom and some storage in the basement. Sigh. I lust after space.

And what about Escapade? I hadn't thought of that! A long stint of unemployment will make my annual indulgence in Escapade impossible. They might not miss me but I'd certainly miss them!

(Just think. If I'd remembered to buy the R.C. that lottery ticket for her birthday, we might even now be splitting $80,000,000!)

(Of course, if I buy one today, we could be splitting $108,000,000 by Thursday morning.) Tens of millions of dollars would buy us a lot of space. And stuff.)