dianaschnuth

Dear Joseph,

After having had some time to consider our random encounter this afternoon, I feel compelled to let you know that I’ll be standing you up on your fifty-second birthday (April 11). I will also make a point of staying away from the meeting spot you designated when my birthday rolls around (April 22). Please allow me to explain why.

Firstly: starting a conversation with, “You’re a pretty girl…” is generally considered creepy by girls everywhere, pretty or no. However, I was willing to engage in conversation with you simply because I’m not good at being rude and ignoring people. Plus, after your comment about how you’d like to grow your hair long like mine and bleach it blond, I thought our conversation would be harmless, brief, and amusing.

Secondly: handshakes are acceptable, even impressive. But please let go after said handshake. Talking at length whilst still holding the hand, then pulling the handshakee into a hug is generally considered improper when both parties are complete strangers. Above all, attempting to kiss a complete stranger on the mouth is highly improper, and attempting to tongue-kiss a stranger after she pushes away from your on-the-mouth kiss is grounds for a knee in the crotch. You should consider yourself ultimately lucky that all I did was give an emphatic “no” and push away.

Thirdly: Smelling like beer is not a good way to get to know a professional who happens to be on her lunch break, even if she has admitted to you that she likes to drink on occasion.

Fourthly: Declaring that you need a girlfriend and then asking your new acquaintance if she is single is not a particularly suave move. Upon her assertion that she is in fact NOT single, it is equally unsuave to answer that your new acquaintance’s significant other “doesn’t need to know.”

So, Joseph, I do apologize if I led you on, but I won’t be meeting you for either of our birthdays. In fact, I will likely take an alternate walking route on both of those days. If you ever attempt to touch me again, please be forewarned that I’ve promised my husband that I’ll call the cops on you.

Best of luck to you, and I hope your Mom and her new boyfriend are doing well.

Most Sincerely,
Diana (the girl with the long hair and the knit kitty hat)

There are things that must be done. I made myself dinner, and I have to wash the dinner dishes. I need to assemble tomorrow’s lunch. I really should look for the 401(k) rollover form from Sky Bank, since I’ll be taxed a jillion dollars or something if they end up cutting me a check directly.

Besides those things, though, I have no intention of being productive tonight. That includes blogging about my Chicago trip.

My brain won’t stop thinking about the server error message I got just before I left work today. I don’t know how I broke the dev server, and I don’t know how to fix it. I’m usually so good at not bringing work home with me; but tonight, it just won’t be denied.

I shouldn’t feel like I need a vacation already. Should I?

I was running late this morning, as usual. Grabbed my purse and went out to the car through the garage, also as usual. (We only have a one-car garage, and two cars, so the one that’s most often used gets parked in the driveway.)

I hit the button for the garage door, and it took its sweet time to open. No big surprise there. I strode through the garage, past the Contour, and ducked under the opening door.

And clocked myself on the garage door.

…

Yes, my head still hurts.

Aaron’s and my presents are opened.
Rock Band has been played.
My new 22″ widescreen monitor has been set up.
The zucchini-chocolate cake is ready to go.
The sausage cake is baked, glazed and cooling.
The remaining presents are wrapped.
The directions to Uncle Pete’s house have been unearthed from the Kia.

All is well. Merry Christmas, all.