Cupidity

I only meant to get six.

I went to the library, returning some books and checking out the ones you see above. I returned all the movies except The Music Man (finally finished Mary Tyler Moore's second season) and picked up a couple for Peterbird (yeah, like he'll choose watching anything besides his new Red Greens.

Made it back to campus in time to be only slightly late to Great Vespers. (Have I mentioned that I'm a chant group groupie and now whenever I don't go to the festal choir meetings, Peter says they ask where I am? Sometimes I believe him, and sometimes I just want to.) I am learning to like Byzantine chant. It's getting easier to find an ison (even if I find a lot of wrong ones first), and the notes make sense ... especially when there's something slow. Fr. Seraphim had a couple of "ladies only" hymns tonight, and since there are only three of us, it's much harder to hide my mistakes. I might have to steal Peterbird's book and figure out what's going on some more. There's also going to be a women's choir rehearsal right after the festal choir rehearsal: "estrogen-filled" is a word which is rather frightening, but, as Mary put it: "It made you laugh, didn't it?" I think I am more comforted by Mary Beth's: "It was a last-minute thing."

I want more books. Movies. Babies. Someone to clean my home. To be six years old and irresponsible.

I want to stop yelling at my husband. To overcome my hormones / crankiness. To clean my own home and keep it that way. To spend my time doing things for others. To want to be good.

This entry is going nowhere. I am filled with self-doubt and boredom. I will go cheer on my team, eat dinner, and read some. And maybe put aside some time just to be nice to Peterbird, who never seems to fail in doing that for me. Isn't that annoying? Feels like I'm determined to be cross. Mraow!*

*of vexation.