Overprocessing

Well, my rent just went up.

I got the list of "early bird" prices, and suddenly it no longer includes utilities. It also does not include pet rent. The price varies by the length of the lease, and they have it figured out for everything from four to thirteen months. The best price, of course, is one year. All is not lost, though. My kind person in the office is asking the manager to call me and suggested I write an email pleading my case. That may help, plus I think my cat just died.

So why not sign a year? Because I was planning to move in the spring. Now wrenches are being thrown in all over the place. Some are excellent, golden wrenches; some are covered in poop. Why did I think this would work out smoothly?

I have already thought about this a lot today and was about to tell you the details, but it's 8:30, the groceries need to be put away, and the computer is threatening to update and restart.  I'll tell you about it all tomorrow.  For now, though, two things.

1) Why do I like making things with eggs much more than eating eggs?

and

2) Why do I always end up wearing contacts (and therefore, sunglasses) on cloudy, dark days?