Do you ever think the world is out to get you?

I do, and I have proof. Consider the events of the last month or so... I started the month with viral bronchitis caught, no doubt, from the guy in the office next to me. He comes to work whether he's healthy as a horse, or suffering from a horribly contagious disease. As he coughed, in what started to sound like the rhythm of some dramatic classical concerto, I knew my days were numbered. This lovely affliction lasted just over five weeks. Five.

Then, I finally felt better, so I decided to celebrate by going out to dinner with friends. I figured it was a good idea to eat healthy to maintain my immune system in an effort to avoid all the other germs flying around the office. I ordered the salmon. Big mistake. The next day, I discovered in the most disguting possible way that I had food poisoning, the effects of which lasted for three days. Three! At this point, I start to wonder about the world's plot against me, but I convince myself that the bad luck is over and the wonder of the holiday season is now here.

To mark the start of the holiday season, I decide to download some Christmas tunes from ITunes. I turn on my computer and try to access the internet. Nothing. "Cannot connect to server." It may as well have said, "This is the world. We hate you. You suck." I figure this problem must have a solution so I call technical support. I spent two straight hours being transferred from one department to the next, and just when it seemed that nobody could solve my problem, a friendly woman had me try one last thing. It worked, and I was back online. Well, I was online but no longer able to use a wireless signal to connect. I am firmly attached to that stupid cable.

At this point, I am stressed out and unhappy. What, might you ask, is the way to relieve this stress? Yes, retail therapy. So, I go to one of my favorite department stores, which in a stroke of what I thought was luck (foolish, idealistic, naive PAF), was having a shoe sale. I found the most beautiful pair of black dressy boots that had been heavily discounted. They fit perfectly. I was happy, bordering on giddy as the salesman rang up my purchase. I carried the bag back to my office (nothing better than shopping at lunch), and finished the day. The whole way home on the train, I thought of my new boots and imagined possible outfits that would most flatter the boots. I was so distracted by my outfit daydreams that I got off the train, without the boots. As the doors closed, I realized my oversight and the panic attack began. I pep talked myself into going to the next and last station stop to check the train for my bag. As you can probably guess by the theme of this post, the bag wasn't there. I begged the station master for help, but she told me the lost in found stayed locked until the following morning and gave me a number to call. Heavy-hearted and distraught over the loss of boots and therefore a lot of money, I went home. I got up this morning, knowing the boots would not be at lost and found. I called the number and sure enough, a less-than-friendly man informed me they had not been turned in. He indicated that perhaps someone might turn them in over the course of the next two days. Don't hold your breath. I'm not.

Christmas comes earlier every year...

First, I'd like to thank Rain Delay for plugging my blog on his -- including a Hitler reference gives me yet another name to add to the list of people with whom I never thought I'd be mentioned in the same thought. I like it.

Ok, so I love Christmas. I love it so much I start playing Christmas music on my IPod at the beginning of November. Selecting new ornaments for my tree at Pottery Barn is done with the same amount of care that doctors apply during open-heart surgery. Ever since I was 12, my Christmas list has had accompanying "exhibits," including pictures from various catalogs of the exact gifts I'm hoping for, along with price, size and color information. This may or may not have something to do with having a birthday the week before Christmas. Instead of bemoaning the combo (bday/xmas) gift cheapskates, I have always chosen to embrace December as the month of PAF. I never minded the mid-November appearance of Christmas decorations at the local mall or holiday ads on television.

However, I draw the line this year. 2006 will forever be known to me as the year when, 2 days prior to Halloween, the mall adjacent to my office was decked out for Christmas. Last weekend, TBS thought it a good idea to start airing How The Grinch Stole Christmas. Another network broadcast Home Alone the next day. When did it become okay to start celebrating Christmas before Halloween, or even the week after for that matter?? I protest! There needs to be a breather in between the costume shop that's only open for September and October closing up and the start of faux trees and garland overtaking the mall. How is this supposed to be the month of PAF, when corporate America forces us to start Christmas in October? Not cool people...not cool.

Debt and Lots of It

I am in debt. Ridiculous, mind-blowing, all thought consuming debt. Lately, thoughts of my debt have crept into my mind as much as thoughts usually do when you start dating a new guy. You're on your way to work, and all of a sudden you see his face in your mind. You're at work, trying to read something, but you don't even know what it is because you can only see him and that cute smile he gives you when you walk into the room. You're at the gym getting your cardio in, and your heart starts beating even faster, not because you've jacked up the speed on your treadmill, but because he makes your heart race. Well, having been in a relationship for a year and half now, JB still makes my heart race, but debt is giving him a run for his money.
This afternoon, all I have been able to think about is that the very healthy living I thought I was making, is in no way enough to allow me to put a dent in my student loans, or the massive other debt I accumulated while not working 6 out of the 12 months before starting this job. Also, I like to think I'm fairly responsible with my money. I bring lunch to work a lot and always take the subway instead of a cab. My weakness: Bulga bags, Michael Kors shoes, Marc Jacobs military style coats, Burberry raincoats...I have a problem. My shopping brain thinks I'm some kind of celebrity with unlimited coffers. I am somehow able to completely able to forget my immense debt in the face of the perfect pair of suede, lace-up, knee high, 3.5 inch heel, camel-colored boots. There has got to be some kind of support group for this...

Another blog

Recently, my friend Rain Delay sent me the link to his blog. I took a look, and also checked out Popstar's blog by following a link on Rain Delay's. This whole online diary thing freaks me out slightly, but I was curious enough to try it myself. So, here I am. Odds are, I will tire of the blogging at some point -- it's like those books I always mean to finish but they wind up collecting dust on my bookshelf, a bookmark about two thirds of the way through. I mean to go back and finish them, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I can speed through the 300+ page Something Blue (chick lit from Emily Giffin, a fun former lawyer author) in an afternoon, but a Capote novella (not even a full-length book!) dangles unfinished. There are so many of these quality, but unfinished books on the shelf in my box-sized studio that my heart beats faster and I get nervous just walking past the shelf. Since, I have to walk past that shelf to use the bathroom, watch tv, get food from the kitchen (or rather, takeout menus) and clothes from the closet -- this poses quite a dilemma. And this, my friends, is just one of my many issues. More soon -- if I can find the self-discipline to do it.