At this point, I might as well stay outside, since my keyboard hasn't shorted out already from the amount of rain on the keys.

I'm a bit glad that I hadn't watered my plants yet tonight, seeing as they'll probably all be flooded by morning with or without my efforts. (Have I mentioned that most of my wee tiny seeds have sprouted into somewhat less tiny green leaf things? I'm alternatingly really happy that all but one pot has actually managed to grown and filled with dread of all the repotting I need to do since more seeds forced their way to the surface than I thought would survive. Most days I sit at work and dream of all the garden work I would rather be doing....and then watch Netflix once I get home. I'm a bad plant mommy.)

There seems to be some sort of sing-a-long taking place around the corner from where I'm sitting. Perhaps what I thought wasn't grilling actually is grilling somewhere. What? Go to bed, Hannah.

There's a woman out here having some sort of soda machine emergency. Involves running, lots and lots of running. (Also loud profanity and a possible dog.)

And to think I didn't want to go to the mall because I didn't want to be around crazy people.

I'm actually outside tonight not for fake farming (though I'll do that as well) or email checking, but to watch fanvids of a British TV show that will likely end in a not-to-be-continued cliffhanger with the season finale next week. I've kinda earned it, as I finally potted the rest of my plants (after engineering pots out of plastic party candy dishes and queso lids) and ate a meal a real grown-up would cook.

BTW, why is it that I can eat a microwave pizza and feel just dandy, but after cooking a pan full of fried chicken and a baked potato, need to refuel after an hour? Does the time put into the cooking somehow lessen the fulfilment of the meal? Because I'd think it was the opposite.

They're working on our parking lot right now (suddenly, all the people who've driven myself or DD home lately shouted a hallelujah), which has the great perk of the fire-entrance fence ten feet from our door is open for the construction trucks to get around. What's that, five minutes I can save tomorrow by not having to go out and around the front half of our building? Why, yes, I will use you to sleep later.

This slightly stream of consciousness post brought to you by the best plate of fried chicken I've made yet. Also, the letter U.

I can't wait for it to be warm enough to swim in the evenings.

Right now, it's pretty BRR GO INSIDE by the pool, but it's the closest wi-fi this side of Westheimer, and I'm certainly not going to the mall at this hour.

I bought party decoration cups to use as planters, seeing as I ended up with more seeds than pots. Of course, then I ate dinner and watched TV and organized some computer files and did all manner of inside things that prevented me from actually putting Operation: Fancy Pots into action.

(What is with me and the organizing of computer files? Can I get that as a job? Because it sometimes feels like I don't do anything on my computer but rearrange the way I'd access the files I'm not accessing.)

I like that the first full afternoon I have in my office after tech week and opening consisted of my computer making a RRRRing sound of death and a higher-up wondering why I hadn't had the time to get next year's schedule to the box office yet. Boo. Shifts Sudoku for the Mainstage did get accomplished, so hurrah.

Finally, I just read the error message on my farmville (yes, sorry) page as "...investigating reports of loading issues, neighbors missing, and pestilence."

Did you know I was still alive?

Because if all you knew about me came from my internet activity, you'd be looking for a pulse by now.

It's been a long tech week (though surely not as long for me as it has been for others), but really all I wanted to do was pot some plants. I finally managed that this afternoon, after both a dress/tech rehearsal in the morning and a birthday party booking in the afternoon. We played croquet with inflatable flamingos. It didn't work well, but was highly entertaining to watch.

[excuse me for a moment, as I'm slightly hit on by someone at the complex for a barbeque up front]

Anyway. The show is finally in a spot where it looks like a show, which is always a good point. There's a part of me always fairly amazed that a show comes together...while the other half never doubted that it would. I'm not going to think any more about it (well, maybe I'll edit a bit more on the ETC guide) until Monday morning, so I guess that means it's time for faux-farming.

TWEET TWEET TWEET TWEET TWEET TWEET

What's extra sad about waking up this early is that my brain is about 85% likely not to think about falling asleep tonight until 11:30ish. (please, please, please brain, prove me wrong)

Dear Ants, I would be much less likely to squish you to deathville if you wouldn't bite me between my toes. Love, Hannah

Why between the toes? It boggles the brain.

I'm so glad that I picked up on the urge to weed/sweep/generally spruce our backyard (such as it is) when I did, because this week has been the perfect "sitting outside enjoying life" weather. Of course, it's also made me want to put out some bird feeders, buy some plants that have already made it past the seed stage and would therefore already be blooming, and possibly buy a tree. Did you know that I've spent quite a bit of time lately wondering how affective it would be to spread out a bunch of potting soil and scatter some wildflowers, just to fill in the otherwise weedy parts of the yard? Clearly, I'm great at thinking in moderation and practicality lately.

Only somewhat related (per usual): what I miss most about having a real backyard (as in, more than my 20'x5' along the back of the apartment) is a hose hooked up to an outdoor faucet for that crisp, metallicy taste of summer.

(that I tend to finish past midnight doesn't help, either)

When I wake up the day after with the ceiling fan on, circulating the smell of fresh laundry from all the pieces that weren't quite dry upon coming out of the dryer (and thus are hanging, draped across many ledges in my room), I feel like I'm back at the dorms.

Actually, I *am* partial to rooftops.

I was at first utterly perplexed, and then blissfully happy when I realized that one of the songs on near-constant repeat in my home life right now (Freelance Whales - Hannah) had magically ended up in my iTunes library as part of a free playlist download before I even knew it existed.