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mousmeIt's officially summer. Yes, I know, the solstice isn't for another few days, but it's sweltering outside. It hasn't been hot for more than two days and I already look like I've gone three rounds with a heavyweight champion. I didn't think the circles under people's eyes could even turn that colour. I seem to forget every year just how poorly I fare in the heat and humidity of a Montreal summer.
Everyone say it all together now: It's not the heat that's bad, it's the humidity.
Okay, now that the obligatory cliché is over, can I repeat how much I dislike the heat? I wilt like a tulip under a magnifying glass in the summer. Bleah. Summer is a very very pretty season, but I'm no good to anyone until the end of September.
So I was duly felled by the heat this weekend. The usual migraine on Saturday (it might be the recently-replaced light bulb in the rehearsal space doing it, or it might just be the quality of the air or something) lingered until late on Sunday, thus effectively ruining eighty percent of my plans for the weekend. Migraines are weird beasts. As long as I ignore them (only acknowledging them enough to take Excedrin), they seem to stay sort of at bay, until I stop moving around/interacting with people/doing stuff. Then they drop like the proverbial anvil (are anvils proverbial, or just the result of Loony Toons?) and pretty much incapacitate me until they condescend to go away. I have yet to understand this phenomenon, but let's just say it's annoying in the extreme.
Needless to say, there was no baking. Not at 32 degrees Celsius, thank you very much. Besides, baking involves bending over and straightening repeatedly, with attendant blood rushing to and from the head. Badness, in short. There are limits to which I will push my masochism. Adding migraines to heat is not one of them.
I did get a little bit of cleaning done. Not nearly as much as I wanted to, but at least I got rid of a couple of garbage bags that were sitting on my back balcony, and tidied a little bit more. Since the weather has decided not to cooperate with me, I'm going to take the FlyLady approach to the rest of my cleaning, which is the fifteen-minutes-a-day technique. With any luck, that will mean actual progress by the end of the week. An hour's worth of cleaning by the time Friday rolls around might actually provide visible results and not make me die of heat prostration in the interim.
The Parental Units are in good form. The Maternal Unit is in a revoltingly good mood, the way she always is after a trip to France. The Paternal Unit gave me a long and not-entirely-accurate lecture on financial responsibility, and once that was done he agreed that I was taking the right course in my current financial decisions. It occurred to me that he doesn't actually understand that much about how personal finances work (though global economics are no problem whatsoever), or at least how they work for an individual with a low income and no job security. Be that as it may, I am going to the bank over my lunch break (joy) to commence proceedings for solving my current financial debacle.
At my father's suggestion, I'm going to start by switching my checking account over to the bank I actually work for (even if, technically speaking, I don't actually work for them). I was planning on doing this eventually, since the CIBC seems to take particular delight in screwing me every chance they get *and* are closing their branches left, right and centre. In fact, there is no CIBC branch anywhere near where I live, which is highly inconvenient. I had been holding off until I got a permanent position at the National Bank, but at this point it seems more expedient to just switch over now.
I'm then going to apply at the National Bank for a loan. Hopefully they won't scoff at my credit rating, but that seems doubtful. Who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky and my father won't have to co-sign with me. However, he's told me that not only is he willing to co-sign, but that if things are truly too tight for July and August while I still have the car (aka the HDFA), then he'll even help me out with paying the loan for those two months. I don't think it'll be necessary, if my calculations are correct, but then my math has always been notoriously unreliable, so it's nice to know I have a contingency plan.
The more I hear about other people's parents, the happier I am that my own Parental Units are so freaking awesome. They've always been supportive of anything I wanted to do, and have always backed me up if I got in too deep over my head. Of course, some people might argue that I haven't learned any lessons because they coddled me too much, but I'm not so sure. I mean, I've never made the same mistake twice (at least, not in important matters), so they must be doing something right. Sure, they're responsible for all my neuroses, but they're also responsible for all my good qualities as well. So, go them. :)
I bitch about my parents far too much, considering how great they are, especially compared to other parents.
Everyone say it all together now: It's not the heat that's bad, it's the humidity.
Okay, now that the obligatory cliché is over, can I repeat how much I dislike the heat? I wilt like a tulip under a magnifying glass in the summer. Bleah. Summer is a very very pretty season, but I'm no good to anyone until the end of September.
So I was duly felled by the heat this weekend. The usual migraine on Saturday (it might be the recently-replaced light bulb in the rehearsal space doing it, or it might just be the quality of the air or something) lingered until late on Sunday, thus effectively ruining eighty percent of my plans for the weekend. Migraines are weird beasts. As long as I ignore them (only acknowledging them enough to take Excedrin), they seem to stay sort of at bay, until I stop moving around/interacting with people/doing stuff. Then they drop like the proverbial anvil (are anvils proverbial, or just the result of Loony Toons?) and pretty much incapacitate me until they condescend to go away. I have yet to understand this phenomenon, but let's just say it's annoying in the extreme.
Needless to say, there was no baking. Not at 32 degrees Celsius, thank you very much. Besides, baking involves bending over and straightening repeatedly, with attendant blood rushing to and from the head. Badness, in short. There are limits to which I will push my masochism. Adding migraines to heat is not one of them.
I did get a little bit of cleaning done. Not nearly as much as I wanted to, but at least I got rid of a couple of garbage bags that were sitting on my back balcony, and tidied a little bit more. Since the weather has decided not to cooperate with me, I'm going to take the FlyLady approach to the rest of my cleaning, which is the fifteen-minutes-a-day technique. With any luck, that will mean actual progress by the end of the week. An hour's worth of cleaning by the time Friday rolls around might actually provide visible results and not make me die of heat prostration in the interim.
The Parental Units are in good form. The Maternal Unit is in a revoltingly good mood, the way she always is after a trip to France. The Paternal Unit gave me a long and not-entirely-accurate lecture on financial responsibility, and once that was done he agreed that I was taking the right course in my current financial decisions. It occurred to me that he doesn't actually understand that much about how personal finances work (though global economics are no problem whatsoever), or at least how they work for an individual with a low income and no job security. Be that as it may, I am going to the bank over my lunch break (joy) to commence proceedings for solving my current financial debacle.
At my father's suggestion, I'm going to start by switching my checking account over to the bank I actually work for (even if, technically speaking, I don't actually work for them). I was planning on doing this eventually, since the CIBC seems to take particular delight in screwing me every chance they get *and* are closing their branches left, right and centre. In fact, there is no CIBC branch anywhere near where I live, which is highly inconvenient. I had been holding off until I got a permanent position at the National Bank, but at this point it seems more expedient to just switch over now.
I'm then going to apply at the National Bank for a loan. Hopefully they won't scoff at my credit rating, but that seems doubtful. Who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky and my father won't have to co-sign with me. However, he's told me that not only is he willing to co-sign, but that if things are truly too tight for July and August while I still have the car (aka the HDFA), then he'll even help me out with paying the loan for those two months. I don't think it'll be necessary, if my calculations are correct, but then my math has always been notoriously unreliable, so it's nice to know I have a contingency plan.
The more I hear about other people's parents, the happier I am that my own Parental Units are so freaking awesome. They've always been supportive of anything I wanted to do, and have always backed me up if I got in too deep over my head. Of course, some people might argue that I haven't learned any lessons because they coddled me too much, but I'm not so sure. I mean, I've never made the same mistake twice (at least, not in important matters), so they must be doing something right. Sure, they're responsible for all my neuroses, but they're also responsible for all my good qualities as well. So, go them. :)
I bitch about my parents far too much, considering how great they are, especially compared to other parents.
