Last weekend was our deck-warming party, which was done in a luau theme and very fun. It marked one of the few parties where I was able to stay away until the very end; I often fall asleep by 11:30 because I am old and tired from all the cleaning right up to the start of the party. Everyone liked the new deck, and it's been properly blessed. Many people slept overnight, and the next day we went to Amphora's and saw X-Men III. I liked it a lot. I have the added advantage of never having read the comic series, so I wasn't angered like a lot of other fans were.
Because our central AC can't handle large crowds, we broke down and got a window AC unit, bringing the total to three in our upstairs. The central air needs replaced; every time we have someone come and fix it, they say that the compressor is old, and was the wrong compressor for the unit we have, anyway. Again, we have the former owners to thank for their continued "let's not consult a professional" during some install. I am sure my shitty insulation also has something to do with it, too (plus, COX ripped a lot of it up). I totally should get some estimates and completely re-insulate the attic. I'd make that back in 2 years of reduced heating and AC bills.
Two weeks to Sweden.
I finally got a haircut. Gees, my hair was long, but I sort of overcompensated because the stylist asked too many questions; I am used to saying "a conservative cut, above the collar line, quarter over the ears, and layered. No bangs," but I am unable to answer a haircutter who barely speaks English asking me how long I want my layers to show(?). I am not upset with the result, but when my hair is cut too short, it has a habit of sticking straight out from my head like a puffball, and I fear I reached that point. Luckily, I barely reached it, and wetting the head once in a while pats it down, and it will grow out. I probably need to start using conditioner for a short while; I usually don't use conditioner because it makes my hair greasy and unclean looking after half a day has passed.
My tattoo is doing nicely. I found out something weird about it. If I touch my tat, it feels fine, like any other part of either arm I touch. If someone else touches it without warning, it hurts. Not like a skin hurt, either, but it feels like some deep psychological anger button is pushed. I feel almost violated. I have never been comfortable with being touched by those I don't implicitly trust (part of the whole child rape package), but for some reason, the tattoo seems FAR more sensitive to this. I wonder what deep psychological baggage the ink has seeped into? I'm not worried about it, but it was kind of weird enough to mention.
This weekend I am installing a firewall/VPN thingee in Baltimore.
And don't use the LJ Rich text feature... just... don't.