Birfday

Currently listening to the Beauty and the Beast Soundtrack - I will never ever ever grow out of my love for this movie. I adore everything about it. Especially the music.
Wondering how it is that my bed and floor are once again hidden beneath a layer of freshly fallen laundry.
    For those of you unaware, and for those who care (that rhymed!!), my birthday was this past Sunday, the 27. I turned twenty, and it was lovely. Very little actually happened aside from traveling home from my grandparents' house, but I like that it was relaxed. My grandma and papa (Mom's parents) gave me a cookie cake and twenty-five dollars. Awesome-tastic.
   Funny story, actually... I had to sleep on an air mattress in the living room with my sister, and my cousin Aaron slept on the couch. Being the bright and shiny morning person that I am *insert heavy sarcasm here* I was the last to wake up. So Aaron took it upon himself to tickle me before I'd even opened my eyes. I completely spazzed, of course, and rolled myself up in a ball in the blankets to avoid being tickled again, which is when grandma marched in and said, "Get up, Sarah Jane! Happy birthday!" And as I uncovered my face, she plopped a cookie cake on my chest. I meant to say something like, "Yay! Thank you!" Or even, "I love cookie cake!" But what came out was, "Aungh!" which is a mix between a walrus and cow, in case you're wondering. I think I just sort of swallowed my words. I may have said thank you after that, but the first words that actually came out weren't words at all. (Side note: I can't remember if it was Aaron or his twin brother Andrew, but last time we all spent the night up at grandmas, I was sleeping on a pallet on the floor, and one of them grabbed my feet and drug me halfway into the hallway to get me up. I don't have the best experiences waking up at Grandma and Papa's..)
    Anyhoo. After driving home, I got a little package - my hair feathers! I have three in now, but I am not going to take a picture because I'm in my pajamas and look awful. I do, however, have a few pictures from my birthday dinner at a Thai restaurant. It was super delicious, but very rich, and (surprise!) made me extremely sick as soon as we got home, but it was worth it. I literally can't eat without being sick... Of course I can't not eat without being sick, either. The conundrum of my stomach issues. Without further ado, pictures!

My sister Maggie and I.

Maggie and I again, but from an exciting new angle!

"Pretend to blow out the candle!" Maggie said. This is the result. Afterward I laughed on my dessert and accidentally blew out the candle. Fail.

    When we got home, Corey and his friend Jeremy came over, and it was oodles of laughs and giggles. Only not from Corey and Jeremy. Because they're men, and men do not giggle. They chuckle. Also, "Men aren't ticklish," Corey says. "They're sensitive." I laughed at that one. Mostly because he's completely ticklish. But I digress.
    After working on a delightful paper which made me want to pluck out my eyeballs with a pin (Oedipus, anyone?) I chanced upon an intriguing little fragment from Frost at Midnight, a poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. The "sole unquiet thing". He's referring to a piece of soot fluttering on the grate of a fireplace, which supposedly signaled a stranger coming to visit, but I really like the way it sounds. "Sole unquiet thing." I kind of want to change my blog title to that. Any thoughts?

Letters to Inanimate Objects 2/25

Listening to A Hard Day's Night by the Beatles (this song is sort of my anthem right now)
Craving absolutely nothing. Which is weird. 
    I apologize for not writing my letters to inanimate objects last week. It was an insane weekend, let me tell you. By the time I would get off work, I just wanted to crawl into the backseat of my car and not move. Sleeping in the parking lot seemed like a great idea. Like hobos.
    But I digress. The letters!

Dear New(ish) Alarm Clock,

    I truly appreciate all your hard work. I hate mornings with all the burning passion of fire and brimstone, yet each morning you're as chipper as ever, just beepin' away. I'm glad you like your new post on the other side of my room. We both know how much it helps me get up. It would be cool if you could trip me when I try to crawl back into bed, though. Or squirt ice water at me when I press the snooze button. But no one's perfect, right? Which brings me to my one complaint. I know that you can play iPods. I've had two before my phone - Gertrude and Jedidiah - and you had no problems working with them. I know working with an iPhone is slightly different, but Bernard is a really great phone if you'd just give him a chance. Y'all worked great together last week. All of a sudden you aren't cooperating. That is simply unacceptable. Please work it out.

 Dear Gas Prices,

    Hey, would you mind coming down off your high horse?  I'd really love to get more than half a tank of gas for 20 bucks - I used to get three quarters just a month and a half ago. You're sucking me dry, here. Just because I need you to get around doesn't mean you can charge me an arm and a leg. Did you just hear all those idioms? Look what you do to me...

Dear Nose,

    Now, for the past 17-ish years of my life, you have never had allergies. We have never had to deal with this problem until now, and I will not tolerate it. You've been sneezing left and right, and the pollen hasn't even hit the fan yet. If you're going to get sick, get on it already so I can drug us up and get over it. Lingering in this sneezy, stuffy-ish, runny-ish, in-between stage is driving me bonkers. Step it up, would ya?


    Sincerely,
    Sarah Jane

P.S. My birthday is Sunday. Blog Five! ^5