Yesterday, I went to my scheduled eyeglass fitting and discovered that glass, which I strongly prefer to plastic, is a "specialty" item that, while not costing anything extra, does require that they outsource the production to a third-party laboratory and instead of taking four days, will take "at least two weeks." I mean, come on, is glass really that rare? I like glass; I have kids, and they can't scratch glass they way they do the plastic lenses.
The Last Bottle of the Food of the Gods I didn't go back to work after the fitting. The cold was still kicking my ass and I went home and lay down for a half-hour nap or so. When I woke up, I remembered to take this photo of the last bottle of the Food of the Gods, Nyquil, which has long been my friend when a headcold comes on strong. But now, Nyquil has no psuedephedrine, it's worthless, it's dead to me. I mourn the end of Nyquil as we knew it. Damn you, methheads. (I tried to write a filk of my sadness, to the tune of Red Barchetta: "My cabinet has a hiding place / that no Fed knows about..." but it wouldn't come together.)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lisakit and her roommate came over for dinner. I didn't have much in the house, but what we did have was enough for me to throw together fajitas and rice, which made for a filling meal for everyone. The fajita marinade was tasty but thin; I should let it go for longer than an hour next time. We chatted while listening to the election results pour in, and then it was time for guests to go home to bed, kids to be sent to the showers, and a cat to get watered. (That's something I should photograph someday; the watering of the cat.)
Okay, I'm sad to see that Hillary is pulling ahead of Obama. I would much have preferred Obama. I think he makes a stronger candidate, and I'll still put my vote behind him in the coming caucus here in Seattle, if I can. Romney, the Platonic Ideal of Inautheniticy, is a hard-nosed businessman and and realist who's apparently too blinded by the promise of theImperial Throne presidency to know when it's time to give up. I was listening to Glen Beck this morning, and he claimed that 95% of Republicans who claim that can't vote for McCain will vote for him anyway. He had a hissy fit (and what is it with that faux "gay" accent whenever he's pretending to voice a liberal) over liberals who hate Hillary; c'mon, the Right Wing Punditocracy is violently opposed to a McCain nomination, Beck, don't be stupid. (Then again, Beck has consistently won Olbermann's Worst Person in the World, so maybe Beck's just... Beck. O'Delay!)
The Last Bottle of the Food of the Gods
lisakit and her roommate came over for dinner. I didn't have much in the house, but what we did have was enough for me to throw together fajitas and rice, which made for a filling meal for everyone. The fajita marinade was tasty but thin; I should let it go for longer than an hour next time. We chatted while listening to the election results pour in, and then it was time for guests to go home to bed, kids to be sent to the showers, and a cat to get watered. (That's something I should photograph someday; the watering of the cat.)Okay, I'm sad to see that Hillary is pulling ahead of Obama. I would much have preferred Obama. I think he makes a stronger candidate, and I'll still put my vote behind him in the coming caucus here in Seattle, if I can. Romney, the Platonic Ideal of Inautheniticy, is a hard-nosed businessman and and realist who's apparently too blinded by the promise of the
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}