I bought myself a pressie today: a humidifier. I was tired of seeing sparks every time I rolled over due to my sandpaper-like legs, and ultimately it's more cost effective, seeing as how expensive lotion is. I got a hot-mist humidifier, so it's like having an electric kettle going all the time. Complete with cheerful bubbling sound.
On the other hand, having so little humidity around has allowed me to cut back my showers to every other day. Say "ew, gross," if you want, but I really like not having to shower every day: showers are time consuming and I hate walking around with wet hair, but I'm too lazy to sit there and blow it dry. Because, speaking of hair, I've decided to grow it out historical style. Meaning...one length, no fancy schmancy cuts or (sob) hair color. It'll just be easier for interpreting. When I'm militia-ing, it goes in a ponytail, no bangs to get in my eyes while I'm shooting, when I'm storytelling-ing, it's easier to pin up when it's longer. I can always cut my hair back into something fashionable, but for now, it's just easier. And more historically accurate.
Speaking of historically accurate, they cancelled militia this week because it was "too cold" causing me to scoff, "too cold!! Was it too cold at Valley Forge?! Tell the soldiers who didn't have SHOES in three feet of SNOW it was too cold!! Wait--you know what? Next week I'm wrapping my feet in bandages and ketchup to preserve historical accuracy!! Yeah!!"
No, but seriously, loyal readers, it's been a long weekend. I've been hit with the hypo again, mostly due to the stress of wondering about my job and long-term prospects (money, love, current political situations, etc ad naseum). It's not enough for me to have a job I love in a place I like, no, I have to stress and have angst about it, instead of cheerfully accepting my life and just living it. The worst part is I've been taking it out on poor Kizzy--overreacting when he does stuff like steal magnetic poetry off the fridge to get my attention. Oh, he got my attention all right, and a great big shouting monster where his mommy used to be. sigh. It's my fault for not being more disciplined about training him. One more thing to stress out about. I promised to take care of him and love him, not beat us both up when he chews up pizza cardboard that was left hanging over the edge of the counter.
I have a great time in the evenings as a storyteller and now working on the Messiah...but I'll be happy when the holidays are over and I can go back to just eight hour days.