When in England (Have I already used this title?)

I am currently sitting at my desk eating a delicious Chorizo, Tomato, pesto, and parmesan sandwich. It is delicious.

Today I called a hospital about a Birth Notification I received at work. While speaking to the woman from the labor unit I said the word 'birth,' and the woman actually corrected me with the 'english' pronunciation. Which is (hard to spell) said with a great deal less 'irrr'. I must admit, I was taken aback. I thought about repeating it back with an english accent, but in the end I just kept using my good ol' American r's. I suppose she could have been checking to make sure she was understanding me, but, honestly, what's so hard to understand when someone actually pronounces all the letters in the word. In 'english' the words 'shaw' and 'shore' sound exactly the same. When I say it...I pronounce the 'r' when there is an 'r'. It makes sense. It is audible. It is good.

The weather here has taken a turn for the worst. Although the sun was gloriously bright this morning, the air is cold as the behind of a witch (as my parents used to say), and it's getting colder. This weekend is easter. EASTER. The best thing is...it was cold in Memphis last Easter. I don't like the cold any more. I am not enjoying it. I like it when it's in the fiftees, but the forties are mean and cruel, and I want them to go away. So I can stop wrapping myself up like a mummy every day. I'm also tired of unwrapping whenever I go inside. goo.

Complain, Complain...I KNOW. I also have to go and make a spreadsheet...right now. Perhaps I will say more later. Because I KNOW you love my wingeing. I have to do my taxes tonight. hmph.

Anti-Social Behavior

This morning I woke up to a cold cold room with the wind banging the windows in their frames and the rain plinking incessantly. I ate my bowl of cheerios in the solitude of my room...mostly because if I eat it in the kitchen, someone will come in and want to talk to me. I don't like talking to people in the morning. I don't like it. I don't even like having to acknowledge people in the morning. It's awkward and unnecessary. I plan almost everything in order to avoid any human contact before I have to really start my day and start talking and doing things. Does this make me a bad person? I don't think so. This morning, I didn't plan efficiently enough and had to round up a great deal of my things from the kitchen before braving the terror of the winds. Almost all of my house mates were in the kitchen. Simone, who I really like (in medium sized doses because she is quite the handful...as small as she is), but who I'm sure thinks I hate her said she'd walk with me to the tube and I told her she didn't have to wait because I normally walk on my own with my ipod pretending as best I can that I am in a car. I think I hurt her feelings. The truth is, it was too early to start talking to people. I wasn't ready for it. I must have felt really bad about it because after my 15 minute walk (normally ten) to the tube against unrelenting winds and spitting cold rain, armed only with my weak umbrella that kept turning inside out and making me look like a fool...I thought I saw her in the huge crowd gathered outside the turnstiles (?) waiting to be allowed onto the overcrowded platform for a train that was delayed because of RAIN (and probably wind), and I ran up to 'her' to ask how long she had been waiting. It wasn't her, however. It was another very small Indian girl with the same coat, same hair, and same orange scarf. Who would have thought. So...I ask you...does my desire to be left alone in the morning make me a bad person?

This afternoon I kept accidentally getting on trains going in the wrong direction because I was daydreaming/feeling blue. Work was a constant reminder of my inability to EVER complete a task given to me as they never end and they just keep piling up on top of each other and beating me down into this wimpering pile of wet wool coat and crappy umbrella. No babies today. Babies come at the end of the week. I ended up a good 30 minute train ride in the opposite direction from home, but I had bought myself a Galaxy Caramel chocolate bar and I sat quietly in the back of the crowd on the platform licking chocolate and caramel off of my fingers and waiting patiently until I could own an entire tube door without having to squeeze in like a lemming with the masses.

I ate hummous for dinner.

I'm a little homesick. I'm a little confused. Sometimes life feels like such a gift...the good and the bad...I like the title of the Nada Surf album 'The Weight Is a Gift' because it truly is...but I don't always feel like it. Sometimes I get caught up in the mundane plodding of my existence. I get tired of bundling up in my coat and scarf every day. I want to be free of my coat. I get tired of the ticking of the clock and my inability to feel certain about anything I feel. I want to be free of my inability to be content. I prayed, this afternoon, that God would renew my faith in the uncertainty of life, that I might be overwhelmed with the joy of it, that I might be able to trust in the weight of my thoughts and emotions.