Um, I'm not complaining because it's always nice to be appreciated, but...dude? Don't use a girl's *jewelry* as an opening line. Ok, his 'opening line' was actually 'can I help you find something today?' (and it's may I, buster) but that's just professional courtesy. Anyway, I walked home from Home Depot (the game was over and the crush of humanity was too much for me via the Red Line) and realized that my great shoes were not so great, and in fact were mideieval devices of torture and pain. There were no buses, so I slogged home the 1.4 miles and cursed Timberland soundly. I ended up getting pizza delivered and watching Kill Bill I with Charlie. We tried to go out, but again--the Cubs. I can't say that I love Kill Bill, or actually even *like* it that much. Q has mastery of the genres, but that's about it. If I wanted to watch a kung-fu movie, I'd watch an actual kung-fu movie.

Saturday morning was bright and brilliant; I giggled my way thru Wait Wait with their story about Mr. Crankypants and corralled the boys into helping me clean out the back porch. This porch has stuff on it from *years* ago. We started hauling crap out of there and onto the patio. Doofus was in the shower so he avoided all this work, but Charlie thought that we shouldn't move the little stuff. I guess he didn't understand the concept of 'it ALL goes' including, well, everything. So it all went, and there was a lot of it. swept, dusted, rearranged, and then donated a lot to the Brown Elephant. Productive *and* charitable--yay, me. D was surprised when I rejected his idea of keeping his old bed 'in case some new roommate needs it'. Two rebuttals to that one: his girlfriend HATED that bed and said it was broken and, when standing upright, it was incredibly swaybacked; and two: if somebody moves into this place and doesn't have a bed, they should BUY one and that's that. Or sleep on the floor. Whatever. This isn't college. This isn't your first year out. You have these things already or you go buy them.

Somebody else's skeezy mattress? ::shudder::
So the crazy homeless shouter down the alley has a nice place to sleep for the next few months, complete with box-spring and 70s lamp.

Grilled on Saturday night (along with all of Chicago) and then headed for the annual gala/fundraiser for the Lincoln Park Shelter. There were some live-auction items that Teri Hemmert was auctioning off, and it was fun to see what kind of money she could get out of people. I'm not a betting person, nor am I one for auctions; I work with traders, for heaven's sake. I am quite aware of what madness lies in wait. However, that didn't stop me from bidding a month's rent on a necklace and earrings that I really, really wanted. It's handcrafted, one-of-a-kind from somewhere foreign; I just had one of those Carrie moments that she seems to have every saunter past a pair of Manolos. So when this item came up, I told myself to see what the opening bid is and go from there. I originally think that $300 is my limit.

That was the opening bid.

Boom. I'm bidding. Right back at me from the cheap blonde across the floor. Well, she's not gonna get this, so boom, it's mine. Teri's in heaven, she doesn't have to coerce the room into bidding. Back and forth, quick bids and all of a sudden I'm realizing that yes, this is some big money, but I really have a thing for this kind of jewelry (different, striking, yummy) and I'm a big girl and I should have it but wait, how much was that ticket to Seattle for Memorial Day and is this worth that trip and can't I get some really great jewelry up there instead but this *is* for charity so it's going to a really great cause and, dammit, that woman just bid again and now we're really at my limit because I can't wear this every day to justify the check I'm going to have to write to own this baby but it should be mine...and then as Blondie and I are in the throes of indecision, *wham* comes some guy with a bid $60 above ours (he likes round numbers, I guess) and now we're both out and his hussy has MY NECKLACE.

I would have rocked that necklace. Now, it's not going to happen.

So after that adrenaline surge, I took myself home (I didn't win any raffle either, boo) and then sleep came softly after a long debate with J about Most Extreme Challenge's best qualities. All of a sudden, it's 4:01 and I'm AWAKE. I'm adrenalined awake, and not sure why. All of a sudden, the doorbell buzzes again and I realize what's going on. It's none of my people, and I don't answer the door at 4a, so I'm about to go get somebody to do something when Doofus's phone starts ringing. GREAT. He huffs to the door after another prolonged bout of ringing and heavy pounding, and then come to find out--Charlie's ordered pizza and forgotten/fallen asleep.

Since Friday night was the first night in almost a week that I had uninterrupted sleep (I have no idea why this is), I'm pissy as hell and ready to kill. Instead, I try to sleep.

Blech.