My Sprinkler Head-Fixing Issues Apparently Continue

I have become obsessed (at times) with fixing the arc of the heads of the sprinkler system Father put in years ago.  When I see the cycle, most of the heads arc so far that they wet the sidewalks, curbs and, eek, the neighbor's driveway.  And so I have looked at the instructions to see how to fix that.

In case you don't know, the system comes with a key.  I had been using the metal, hex-style end to put into one of the holes on the top of each head; I twist it one way or the other and that is supposed to shorten the left-most side of the arc.  Alas, the arc didn't change.  After carefully reading the instructions, I realized that I needed to use the other end, the plastic end that's wider and have notches on the end.

I did that ... and it's gotten worse.  Not only do the heads (and I only tried to fix two of them; there are several others I still need to get to) still water pavement, they arc even further, jutting out onto the street and well into my neighbor's driveway.  I'm scared as hell one of the sprinklers will hit my neighbor as they're walking to the car, or they'll see their car drenched in water and that'll piss them off.  Worse off, the right-most side of the arc is different, too.  You can't use that key to fix the right side.  Instead, you have to literally take out the sprinkler head and re-orient it so that its right-most extent lines up with the edge of the grass you want to water.  I was able to twist off one of them, and I thought I had put it in correctly, but now that's watering my walkway.  I think it's hitting the side of the house, too.

Add that those sprinkler heads are a bitch to take out of the ground -- you have to dig around the head, and sometimes twisting and pulling them is difficult, and by the way, I was unable to find the ones I tried to fix without turning on the cycle so that the heads pop out from the dirt and grass that seemingly was buried above them, and that's a pain in the ass -- and after a bit more failed tinkering (I did all of this on Wednesday because I came home from work early), I quit.  Maybe I'll try again Sunday.  But even though the grass is yellow and crusty, I dare not turn on the sprinklers now, now that I've made a slightly bad situation a lot worse.  I just need to fix these damn things.

Three Things From Yesterday

All I wanted to do is wish Father and Happy Father's Day yesterday.  And sure, it's innocuous, but dammit, he reminded me that they plan on coming home some time.  When?  Who knows.  But he launched into this story where he was told by some guy who called him that there was a hailstorm here, which there was, and do you want us to check the house for any damage?  These shady, fly-by-night shakedown jobs always are on the make, promising to replace the roof quickly and for cheap.  Not to say that the roof on our house doesn't need at least a once-over.  But if it is, I'd rather go to a reputable company and not some half-ass dimwit who are just cold-calling people in the hopes of suckering them out of their money later.  Anyway, they're coming home, and that day is getting closer, and I am not ready for that.

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On a brighter note, all day yesterday/Sunday I hung out in downtown Minneapolis.  MNUFC and Brit's Pub held a joint soccer celebration where, for free, you can watch World Cup Matches.  During the last Game of the quadruple-header, Egypt-New Zealand, I looked up from where I was at the sunken Peavey Plaza.  There were strangers of all countries and background watching the Match from a huge TV screen.  Meanwhile, the setting sun managed to cast its rays on the tall buildings downtown.  And I felt happy and safe.  Downtown Minneapolis being dangerous is absolute bullshit.  What I experienced downtown yesterday?  That's the real downtown, and don't let any MAGAt make you believe otherwise.

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Even though Michael Boxall, who's MNUFC's longtime Centerback, was playing for New Zealand, Egypt fans overwhelmed Peavey Plaza.  I swear there were about four dozen Egyptians and Egypt Fans at the Game-watching party, and that is four dozen more Egyptians and Egypt fans than I believed live here.  Oh, and there are some fine-ass Egyptian chicks, I tell you what. ...

Car Fluids Spoil??

Yesterday I learned that motor oil goes bad if you don't use it after a certain point.  You know, maybe I should've known better, but I thought that motor oil, you know, never goes bad.

That may be why the big jug of oil Father used never seemed to work when I put it in my car.  The level on my dipstick never went up, and if I didn't put in more soon after I put in some, I felt enormous stress that I should.  It seems as though I never have an issue seeing the oil level in my engine go up after I use one of the newer quart bottles I have in the back of my car.

But I continue to look through the Internet for tips on using motor oil that's been lying around.  I've seen sites that say that you should dump motor oil if it's been open for year, others two years, still others five.  I was of the mind of giving the leftover oil in our garage to the county hazardous waste site, but some corners of the World Wide Web say I can still use it.  So, what's the correct answer?

And I did more research and discovered that the coolant I lug around in my car also expires.  Do I need to get rid of that, too??

Damn, this is getting confusing, and expensive.

I Don't Believe Her

So my cousin, who I haven't seen in at least a quarter-century and whose son is going to medical school here, wanted to know when I was free, right?  I asked if I could get back to her in the middle of the week so I could figure things out.  Well, the soccer results being what they were, I texted her on Wednesday -- like she asked me to -- and I told her that besides Saturday and Sunday morning, I was totally free for the weekend.

Then, nothing.  Well, I hadn't heard from her until yesterday/Friday.  Since I moved up my speakeasy visit from last/Friday night to Wednesday, last/Friday night was free for me, and that's when the both of them would get into town, so I figured that if last/Friday night was the only time the two of them could see me, I should text again.  She got back to me ... and she said sorry, they're busy, they can't see me this time around.  Maybe closer to the beginning of school, when they come back, but not now.

Sorry, I don't buy it.  At all.  She reached out to me, out of the blue.  She then called me, enthusiastically, asking when we could meet.  All I asked for was a few days and then I would get back to her, which I did.  And then my cousin just says, basically, whoops, can't see you?  I don't understand the about face at all.

Sure, I'll be dark and conspiratorial.  Maybe she decided that me asking, oh so gently, for some space and time was a rejection to her.  She took that as a sign that I didn't want to see her at all, which is not true at all.  My only other theory is that Father talked/got to her.  He had some dumb fucking thoughts in his head that when I said I needed to get back to her later, I really meant that I didn't want to be bothered, and so he told her to lie and say that she and her son realized they were busy.  I can't think of what else it could be, because I don't believe her when she texted me that they're busy.

Honestly, this hurts.  She wanted to see me and now she doesn't?  I blocked out some time and moved around some things so I could spend an afternoon or evening or day with them.  She basically said to forget it.  Don't understand.

I can't do anything except wait until my cousin and cousin once removed supposedly come back late in the summer to see if they really want to see me.  If they do, and we meet up, great.  If not ... why in the hell did she even ask for my phone number?

Oh, by the way, because my Friday night was free, I went back to my original plan of greeting The Beginning Of Summer by going to my speakeasy.  Yes, it was the second time in three nights.  I can't quit the place, and after this emotional whiplash, I needed a couple drinks.

They're Coming Home Because They Think I Should House The Cousin I Haven't Heard From In Decades

This was going to be a more expansive blog post because my cousin isn't the only person who has reached out to me and wants to see me.  But things had to take a scary bad turn for me, and that's because of my goddamn parents' meddling, again.

I have learned to check the spam texts the hard way.  I lost out on a gig I applied for because the person hiring for the crew texted me, and since this number was not from a trusted contact, it went into the spam folder.  Curiosity was the only reason I checked that folder, and I saw it months after this person offered the gig to me.  What an embarrassment ... and that company hasn't hired me since.  And yet I still go to their hiring board.  I applied for something a couple weeks ago.  And I am checking the spam folder just in case they give me another chance.

Anyway, it was also in this spam folder where I saw a long text from my long-ago cousin to whom I haven't spoken in decades.  She is in town and wanted to catch up on old times.  I will be honest.  She is one of four sisters and brothers my brother and sister and I remember hanging out with from time to time when we were young.  I like this particular cousin the most even though that's based on guesses on what I remember back when we were kids.  The oldest of the four I have problems with; thing is, I don't remember if I ever got into a fight with her.  My memories of interacting with her enrage me now, but I really don't know if she thinks we don't get along.  I just don't want to see her again.

But I need to give family a chance, so I reached out ... as soon as I spoke to My Father, whom my cousin, or "cousin," said gave her my number.  I hadn't spoken to my parents pretty much for the past week, but I finally had reason to ring them up.  And yes, Father said my cousin is the real deal and so gave her my number.  OK, this is not catfishing.  We spoke -- can't say I was over-enthused on catching up, but I want to see if I could see her over the holiday weekend.  We promised to compare schedules the middle of the week.

With that matter kicked down the street, I went to Art-A-Whirl's last day.  And while I was minding my own business, trying to give myself some grace and be a part of a community that I love, I feel a buzzing on my ass.  Father called again.  I took the call while wandering around an art studio.  I should have known they would have called again demanding that I be more "hospitable."  They asked me to ask my cousin if she needed to borrow my car.  She already told me that she and her son (he'll be studying in town for the next several years) have gotten a rental.  They then fucking asked me to open up the house to them.  I told them my cousin and cousin once removed already got a hotel.  I completely fucking lied; I'm pretty sure they have, but I don't know that.  What I do know is that there is no goddamn way in hell I am going to let them stay here if I can help it.  No offense, but fuck no.

The call ended; I don't think My Fucking Parents heard the combination of rage and fear in my voice at the end of the call.  But I kept thinking about them while I was doing my personal art crawl.  Also, I remember that goddamn time they surprised me by coming home and not telling me.  So goddamn scarring; I'll never forgive them for doing that to me.  I know that they suspect that I don't keep the house clean while they're gone.

So that leads me to one conclusion: They're coming home.  They might not tell me.  They might.  But they're coming home.  They think I am so unable to be a good host for family that they will fucking pay the obscene amount a plane ticket costs these days and come home to see if I have cleaned up the house.  By the way, they insisted that I gave them my cousin's phone number, even though I think they already have it.  I can totally believe that My Fucking Parents insisted, if not demanded, my cousin cancel their hotel and car so we can give them housing and transportation.  Fucking weirdos.

I can imagine them booking plane tickets online right now.  Fuckin' A.  The house is a mess, just like I wanted to.  And I need to clean it up in five fucking days to impress one person I haven't seen in decades and another person I didn't know existed until yesterday?  Fuck that shit.  I'm too tired to clean, and I'm too busy to care.  And that's how My Fucking Parents will screw me again.  All because oh-oh-oh, I need to be good hosts for family!!!  I'll bring shame to them if I don't!!!

Fucking hate my parents.

Forgot Shower Strainer

Right now I'm bothered (admittedly from other things too) that I failed to put a strainer in the master bathroom shower.  I had swapped out the one that was there and put that in the master bathroom sink, and I was going to toss the one that was in the master bathroom sink because it was getting all clogged up.  Somehow, I forgot to grab a new one (or an old one -- get this, My Father takes the time to unclog strainers in order to re-use them.  Yes, it saves money, and I put one of those cleaned ones in the shower, but I feel like this is a First World privilege that we should indulge in -- don't scrape shit off of a strainer, they're only two bucks apiece!), and worse than that, I put the plastic strainer that goes on top of the strainer back where it was, as if I had already put that second strainer back in.

Worst of all is I don't remember how long ago this all was.  I think, though, that it had to have been at least a month, and possibly it's been longer than that.  Lord knows how much of my hair and dead skin was able to get through that's currently clogging up the pipes.  Dammit, man, how could I forget something like that?  I had an entire process I needed to do, and I just stopped halfway through it.  What the hell was I thinking?

So That's Why The Rear Seat Wouldn't Stay In Place!/Poor Pen/How Angry My Father Gets

I think this happened, I think, shortly after my parents left.

I have my back seats arranged, well, strangely.  The back seat on the driver's side is put all the way down.  That way I can throw a blanket on top of it so that, when I crawl into my car to sleep for lunch at work, I can just get into the passenger seat, reach over and bring it up to the front.  Also because I need to sleep at work, I lift up the bottom of the back seat on the passenger side.  That way I can completely recline the passenger-side front seat so I can rest.  It's a perfect system.

For reasons I now forget, I had to fold down the back seat on the passenger side so that it looks normal.  (I think I did this at work, even though that's immaterial to this story.)  There is a bar on the bottom of the seat that is supposed to latch to an anchor on the floor, and for the life of me I couldn't get it to latch.  Finally, I looked at the floor ... and I saw almost a dozen bits of a pen, just strewn on the floor mat.  It wasn't just snapped in two; it was obliterated.

Seeing this, I think I realized how that came to be.  During a time when my parents were still home, I wanted to lift up the rear seat on the passenger side because I wanted to put my computer bag there.  I could have just stood it up against the laid-down seat, but I guess I was going somewhere where I wasn't completely sure my car wouldn't get broken into, so my plan was to fold up the seat, lie my laptop bag flat on the floor, and put my car shades on it so no one could see it.

I distinctly remember laying the computer bag flat with one of its pouches unzipped.  It was a pouch in which I keep my pens.  I also distinctly remember thinking I should zip it up because I don't want anything to roll out of the bag, but I thought nah, it won't happen.  Well, I'm guessing that poor pen did roll out of the bag and onto the floor, and when I grabbed my laptop bag, I didn't notice it got loose.

I don't remember this part, but I have to think that at a later day, without my knowledge, My Father put that back seat down.  That pen must have gotten into the anchor, preventing him from locking the seat in.  The only way he thought he could get it to go down and stay down was through force, so he just pushed down the seat repeatedly and violently, not knowing that the reason the seat wouldn't anchor was because that pen was in the way.  So he basically broke a pen into pieces by smashing it with the bar of a car seat.

I get the frustration.  But I'm hung up on how much force, and really how much violence, you would need to destroy a pen just because a car seat wouldn't secure.  But then again, I could see My Father being so angry to the point of using brute force to get what he wants.  I've seen it.  I've been a victim of it.  Preposterous or not, seeing those pen remnants is a reminder of how vicious My Father could be.

I will zip up the pouches on my computer bag from now on.

Expenses Without Receipt

Starting from Thursday, April 9:

• Well, we should really start on Easter, aka Sunday, April 5, when I went out to the Heights to finally see Psycho.  Man, that shower scene is killer.  Ticket, popcorn, pop and tip: $26.
• Later that evening *****y whacked me off.  I wanted to see her on Easter because she is a regular churchgoer and I find it somewhat ironic that she goes to church and then later that day she gives me an HJ for money, specifically: $150.
• Friday, April 3: I didn't expect to spend money, but Father wanted Powerball tickets, so out I went.  And because I have to stick to my rule of spending cash or using credit cards on a least two things in a day, I decided that I wasn't going to have veggie chips and veggie dip for dinner and instead try a mom-and-pop Latin American restaurant.  There are a few places around here that are recommended.  But they were closed by the time I went out -- I stayed to listen to the end of the South Carolina-UConn women's college basketball Semifinal and in particular Geno Auriemma's meltdown at Dawn Staley -- so I went to a place that was open but fell just below 4 1/2 stars on Google Maps: Que Taco.  Not bad.  I got their birria tacos, and they are the biggest tacos I've seen around the area yet.  Wanted to use the bathroom, but they cordoned that part of the restaurant off with chairs and a mop wringer bucket.  Might go there again if only because it's open when I want to nightcrawl.  I have the receipt (ETA at 1:19 p.m. on May 24, 2026 that I may have had the receipt, but it looks like I threw it away, so either I charged this to my credit card or I just fucked up and didn't write down the amount I paid for it, in which case, uh, oh, well, I hate myself), so this EWR is for just the tip: $2.
• Now we go back to Sunday, March 29, where I laid into ****e.  She was unstable on this day, sadly.  She called me while I was still driving to her place asking me where the hell I am.  Her cock-sucking wasn't as on point as it has been in the past.  And after we got done fucking and I laid in bed all tuckered out, she took my underwear and socks and placed them in a pile next to what what was either clothes she was going to launder or trash she was going to throw away.  I was glad I was getting dressed before she did anything to it.  But when I grabbed my boxers, I saw that they were right above a wad of either wet toilet paper or paper towels either she cleaned up the bathroom with or I used to wipe up all my cum.  There was a huge wet spot on the boxers, and I needed to wear them because I was going to a brewery afterward.  I asked ****e if I could use a hair dryer, and that did the trick.  But this is the first time something like this happened.  Whatever; I'm thinking of seeing her again next weekend.  Price: $120.
• So this brewery is doing this thing where I could bring in a Minnesota United jersey and they would remove the Target logo in the front and replace it with the Rebel Loon, a symbol of the Twin Cities' resilience and defiance in the wake of this Republican government's oppression earlier in the year.  I waited and had an early dinner and beer while they were hacking my replica Loons jersey.  But for some reason I couldn't use my card to pay for this service.  Thankfully I had enough cash on me to do it: $30.
• Back further to Monday, March 23, the date of my alma mater getting their butts handed to them by South Carolina.  Our Game-watching bar charges extra when you pay by credit card, so I now pay by cash as often as I can, and I did so on this night.  With tip: $40.
• Sunday the 22nd was the last day Hotters at The Mall Of America was open.  Sad, sad day.  Glad I got there when I did; they got so busy, and they got so cleaned out, that they closed their doors at 6 even though they usually close on Sundays at 10, I think.  Oh, and when I asked if there was any food available, my Hooters girl said they still had burger patties.  Not burger buns, but patties.  And shit, I almost ordered one.  But I settled on my Big Daddy-size Bud Light and the two shirts they still had on sale.  Didn't think I wanted such memorabilia, but when one shirt was only five bucks and another server came around saying the other shirt, really a cancer-themed crop top, was only a buck, well, I had to jump at the chance.  My last total I spent at the Megamall MOA, with tip: $40.
• And on my way out I think I saw a Girl Scout Cookies stand.  That's where I bought the Lemonades.  Glad it was a Girl Scout who did the sale and not her mom; these kids are supposed to learn how to sell and do business, right?  Paid: $6.
• Back to Saturday, March 14 ... a fellow alumni's kid is in this covers rock band.  The band is really good, and I saw on Facebook that they were playing at a brewpub close to me.  I stayed there until the snowstorm everyone was dreading started to look really bad.  But before I left I left tips for the young whippersnappers: $4.
• Shit, man, now we're really going back ... to Sunday, February 22, in fact, when I went to the Heights for the first time since I think the theater got new owners.  I went to see Battleship Potemkin, a silent film classic I have wanted to see for a long time.  It was accompanied by a solo musician who played the piano.  What I wasn't expecting was her to use a snare drum and a crash cymbal.  I have seen a silent film once or twice with a full band, but never have I heard percussion used -- but it was a very, very welcomed new experience.  Paid for the ticket with my credit card, so this total is for the popcorn, pop, and tipping the concession stand: $13.
• On Saturday the 21st I got a shave from the local barber school.  The person shaving me acted like he didn't give a shit, so I didn't give much of a tip.  See, this is why I'm willing to pay five times as much to get my face shaved.  Or, maybe I should just do it myself again.  With tip: $12.
• For Valentine's Day I went to My Favorite Stripclub (Cover Version) to see my ATF.  Where else would I go on February 14?  So glad she was there working; she had said she didn't know if she was going to take the day off.  Cover, tips, drinks from me and ******a and 20 table dances from her ... well, I see that I didn't write the total amount down after I left the club, so I'm just going to pull an amount out of my ass and say that I spent: $230.
• Sunday, February 8: Went to Grandpa Joe's (formerly Blue Sun Soda Shop) to get some premium ginger beer and ginger ale for the cocktails I wanted to make.  I also grabbed a bottle of RC and a bottle of root beer from some company.  Six bottles that cost: $14.33.
• I think later that day, *****y came over to wank me: $150.
• Finally, on Sunday, February 1, ******e came over to wank me: $120.

Yes, I keep saying this: I need to do these more frequently.  Done through April 9.

Giving The Van A Little Love, I Guess

I now think I remember what I was going to originally blog post about yesterday/Saturday afternoon.

So I brought in my parents' minivan last week.  I have no idea what maintenance Father did or did not have on it before my folks left, so I just assumed I should not trust him and asked for an oil change and a tire rotation.  This was also the time to find out if there's anything more to the exhaust smoke I saw coming out the passenger side of the van earlier in the year.  And finally, if there was anything else the mechanics saw, let me know; I might get it fixed.

Well, they never said anything about the oil looking fresh, so they changed the oil and rotated the tires.  The exhaust was something; they showed me that there is a hole in the muffler.  But this is one of those cases where one thing could lead to another.  They could replace the muffler for a grand, but they would then have to disassemble the whole exhaust system, and the mechanic was afraid some other part that is closer to the front of the car would get loose or break off, and that would mean, at the very least, three more thousand dollars.  That is one repair that I will not have fixed.

But, while looking around, the mechanic saw that the stabilizer link, whatever that is, on the passenger-side front tire was broken.  To level with you all, the mechanic(s) described its, uh, brokenness in vague and relatively benign terms -- "You'll feel it bounce over bumpy roads," one of them said.  He made it sound like it wasn't worth fixing, frankly.  He gave me the same advice, and in the same tone, when he advised me not to fix the muffler.  But honestly, I felt a little guilty saying no over the muffler -- not to the mechanics, but to the car.  Yes, I'm treating the minivan like it's a living creature.  But I feel guilty that I won't fix what appears to be a major issue because it's just too damn expensive.  And in exchange, I want to "make it up to the car," and throw some money at some repairs to make it run better.  And the van still runs well.  I think it'd make it up north, even though I dare not do it.  I think having a second car around is a good idea, and I will spend some money for its upkeep, just not a few thousand dollars in one heap.  Several hundreds dollars, though?  I said yes, even against what seems to be the advice of the mechanics who spent only half an hour switching out these stabilizer links or whatever.

Am I a fool?  Sure.  But I want to let my car that I still care for it, even a little.

I'm scared about trying to use the snowblower tomorrow.  I'm sure I've said that on this blog before.  I probably was scared then, and I'm scared now.

The enormity of the snow -- I just went out at 2 in the morning to shovel the stoop and the top part of my driveway; even though I didn't measure, I eyeballed 4 inches, give or take an inch -- makes me afraid what I'll do if I can't get the blower to start.  But I checked the snowblower last night, and everything was set where it wasn't supposed to.  By that I mean that the choke was on, the, uh, speed thing was all the way fast, and most worryingly, the gas was on when it should be off.  The entire carburetor had to be replaced in the last summer, and I think it was because the gas switch was on for a long time, thus flooding the carb.  I think that Father tried to run it once before my parents left for Las Vegas and just didn't put all the settings back.  But I looked at the snowblower a couple times before last night and I didn't see anything wrong with it.  In fact, I know I looked at the gas switch and though it was turned off.  So if the snowblower doesn't work again, it's probably because it wasn't "put back" properly, and it'll serve me right that I failed to check.

We'll see in the morning.  Or afternoon.  OK, whenever I wake up. 

My Sister The Proxy

So I told Mother that I got my passport book and card two and three weeks (respectively) after I applied online, and she asked for my help to coach her through the online application process for her and Father at a day I had time to help her with it.  I told her on Sunday that I could help her Monday evening.

Now, I've told all of you how much of a mental and emotional drain being on the phone with My Mother can be.  I think that planning a long phone call ahead of time, like it obviously was going to be when dealing with an online passport renewal application over the phone and not while I'm sitting next to her, helps remind me that I need to be patient.  What I didn't know, however, was that my sister just so happened to be visiting my parents in Las Vegas for a few days.  Awesome!  She basically became my on-site translator and extra set of hands!!  So sis, can you do the application process for the 'Rents ... and ooh, by the way, can you help me install a new modem and router in their condo, too?

This problem of theirs goes back at least a year.  Mother complains of dead spots, namely their dining room table, which is at the opposite end of the part of their condo where their old, slow, obsolete modem resides.  It needed a new one, I suspected, and then it needed something to boost its range and help the signal break through the condo's walls.  But I wasn't planning on going out there anytime soon, not as long as this Republican administration has the gall to snatch up anyone at the airport they decided they don't like, so I figured my folks would have to just suck it up.  My sister being there, however, changes everything.  I could tell her what the problem is and how to fix it.  So once I decided she could do this (and my sis made the online application process for both Mother and Father go so smoothly), I spent the rest of the night looking up the best modem and router to buy at an electronics store and bought them, then I texted her all the information for the three of them to pick up, bring home, and set up so Mother can finally stop bitching about their shitty wi-fi.

That part did not go smoothly.  First of all, the modem I bought for them has to be hooked up with a coaxial cable.  I thought every place had a coax, but apparently this condo only connects to the Internet outside via Ethernet.  My sister tried to see if the modem would work just hooked up through Ethernet, but she told me (on the phone Tuesday night while I was at the Timberwolves Game) that it didn't.  Also, the router I got for them was just one unit of those "meshes" or "pods" or whatever you call it.  I thought one would be enough.  I thought that if I bought them a second (which, presumably, would be placed as far away as the first "mesh" or "pod," which has to be connected to the modem, in order to maximize the range), they would complain that, like, "It looks bad," or something.  My folks can be that shallow.  Well, Mother complained (after my sis attached this new router to the old modem, which she had a bit of trouble reconnecting) that there still wasn't any range.

My sister was leaving Thursday, and there was no way my parents would even dare try hooking up this second router, so my sister got my brother to buy that second router, which could be delivered the next day (which was Wednesday) because he has Amazon Prime.  (This is where I expand the universe of this blog post by reminding you that after I got home from the Game, I saw that my thermostat didn't work and, ironically, decided to accept a free trial of Amazon Prime in order to buy the same brand of thermostat so that I didn't have to do any wire work to put in a different brand of thermostat, and get it delivered as soon as possible ... even though I put in a second different set of batteries which made the old thermostat finally work.)  My sister got this second router, she installed it Wednesday, and it ... well, I haven't asked Mother yet if the range is better.

All through this ordeal, I profusely thanked my sister for doing this favor -- for our Mother, because our Mother wanted it, but frankly, for me, too.  I don't think she had running to Best Buy and spending a good chunk of one afternoon installing new wi-fi as part of her plans while visiting my parents.  I recognize that I ask ... no, use my sister a lot when I want something done.  Most notably, when I feel like I can't talk to my brother about something I need him to know, I tell my sister and she tells him.  We were in Hong Kong for Grandmother's funeral several years ago, and we were not on speaking terms then, so we asked our sis to relay any messages we needed the other to know.  She recognized that; the night after the funeral service, when I took her to this bar I wanted to go to because I needed a drink, she told me she knows what both of us are asking her to do in order to keep the peace between us.  And she almost broke down crying.  The gravity of burying Grandmother had something to do with it, of course, but being the peacemaker brings its own anguish, and that is something we make her do.

She acted as if she didn't mind putting in a new modem and router, even though she had no previous experience.  Still, besides thanking her a lot for being my proxy, I wonder if there's something else I could do for her ... or does she have a favor I'll have to pay her in kind.  Either way, that's an obligation I should do for her.  She did this for me, after all.

New Hat Rack

So just after the New Year I bought on Amazon a new hat rack.  The one I have, which Father helped nail onto the wall, kind of looks like a ladder.  There are hooks that you hang on each "slat" of this rack, and the pincers at the end of each hook is where the folded cap gets attached and hangs on the rack.

Two problems with this.  One, I have bought and got so many ballcaps (I want to say I have at least 50) that there was no more room on the rack.  And two, the hooks have gotten so worn out that they no longer pinch the caps in place.  I try putting them back, and just when I think the hook has a hat in its grasp, the hat falls to the ground.  I have had to throw away many hooks that have worn out.

My Father, in the midst of going through my shit and fucking invading my privacy, did come up with an ingenious way to get all my hats on the rack by putting them on those clothes hangers with hooks on each end, then hanging those clothes hangers on the rack.  But I wound up relaxing in my bed, watching my TV and seeing, over to the left, this ugly mass of hats and a metastatic tumor of clothes hangers squeezing next to and piling on top of one another just so they can stay on the rack.  I normally don't give a fuck about how things look so long as they do the job, but even I couldn't stand seeing that monstrosity every day.  (I have to admit that, as clever as he is, seeing that semi-organized mess was a reminder that My Fucking Father went through my things and acted as if he knew what was best for me, and I rebelled against that, albeit subconsciously.)

I thought I needed a second hat rack to handle the overflow of the first hat rack, but in time I thought I should just get something that could handle all of my hats.  Eventually, I something that fit the bill and bought it on Amazon.  It is a series of five cubby holes on a vertical rack that can hang on doors because there are hooks and grommets on the top.  I installed it on the inside of my bedroom door and, frankly, it's a godsend.  All the hats that crowded my plastic rack I can just fold and place in one of the shelves, and I have two shelves left over.  In fact, assuming I don't buy any more ballcaps (and that could happen), this new rack really could take all the hats I have.  I don't necessarily need my first, old one anymore.  The only thing I'm scared of, and this might just be my paranoia talking, is that the hats on this new, second rack might weigh down my door so much it'll start to pry the door off its hinge.  Hope not; this door has been where it's been as long as I can remember it.

All in all, I'm glad I made this purchase.

Anyone Want A Water Filter?

It's not good that I can't track stuff that I've already bought.  I got water filters delivered because I know it's been about a year since it's been changed.  After I ordered some, I went into my storage unit and saw that I have about three left over from a previous order.  I think I will now have four extra once I get around to putting a new one in.  Oops.

Now, to be fair, I might have changed it in the fall and thus checked whether I had extra in my unit, but my parents were here and Mother had a bad knee, so I was preoccupied with that.  Also, maybe not in my defense, storing these in my unit makes for an "out of sight, out of mind" situation where I wouldn't've remembered ever buying these extra filters until I bought more.  Finally, for some reason, Father turned off the humidifier last year.  In fact, it may have been over a year in which he didn't turn it on.  However, inexplicably, it looks as though he turned it back on some time during my parents' extended stay back at home.  I noticed, and then I got around to remembering the filter needed changing when I got an alarm last week that water was leaking from the humidifier while I was at work.  I went home, opened everything up and, beyond needing to clean the apparatus of limescale and calcium deposits, the water filter needs to be replaced.  This was an instance of "out of sight, out of mind," but in plain sight.

Anyway, I have to change my water filter, then store the extras back in my unit.  Great.

Expenses Without Receipts

Starting from Saturday, January 17:

• We go back to Wednesday, January 14, when I summoned up the courage and went down to My Favorite Stripclub (Cover Division) to see my ATF, whom I hadn't seen in a while because my parents were in town.  Cover, tips, drinks for her and for me and 19 table dances that I rounded up to 20 to make the money exchange easier and I spent: $233.
• On Saturday the 10th I took my friend, who was in town for work, to my favorite speakeasy.  I feel like I need to impress people when I take them there, but I hope they like it.  I think my friend did.  There was a jazz band there and I wanted to tip them even though I mainly wanted to speak with my friend.  I tipped the band: $5.
• Tuesday, January 6 ... after I took my parents to the airport, I went over to ****e's place and fucked her.  She didn't go after my cock a second time in the living room like she did the time before.  But she seemed really enthusiastic when I finally got inside her.  Well, first I really ate her meat curtains, which looked really, really full.  Then, while I was plunging into her, she sounded really, really enthusiastic, like she really needed to be nailed.  I tried arcing her back (she was on the bed and I was doing her missionary style) and lifting her up and into me.  It probably wasn't smooth, but she acted like she loved it, and therefore I loved it.  Cost: $120.
• So now we go back to 2025, specifically Tuesday, December 23, when my parents paid me back for grabbing both Kentucky Fried Chicken and lottery tickets.  Mother gave me ten bucks when I came home that night with KFC, and either Mother or Father left a pair of $20's for me when I came back from shopping.  All told, this was an Infusion of: $50.
• Oh, and before I shopped I went downtown to make sure our watering hole was cool with us watching our Game down there.  With tip, I spent for a little snack and drink there: $10.
• To Sunday the 21st ... Father paid me back for more Powerball tickets I got for him.  And Infusion of: $11.
• And early that afternoon I went to my downtown watering hole (the same place I'd be going to on Tuesday) because I wanted to finally put in for new glasses with my new prescription, and I wanted to see the Vikings Game at a place besides my bedroom, and Warby Parker was just around the corner.  I was going to go to Warby Parker first, but I thought they would open at 11, and they opened at noon, which is when the Vikings Game kicked off, so I went to watch and eat first before ordering my new eyeglasses.  Anyway, with tip I spent at the bar: $38.
• To Friday, December 19 -- went to order in-person at Caribou a small ho ho mint mocha.  With tip it came out to an expensive: $7.38.
• Tuesday the 16th I had off because that's when I brought my car in for service.  Once it got a clean bill of health and routine maintenance was the only thing(s) it needed, I went to get it washed for all the snow, salt and gunk that had accumulated.  Charged the wash so the cash is for the tip only: $5.
• With my car being as brand new as it could be, I had the confidence (as well as the time; if there was something major that needed to be replaced, I would have had to spend my day at the shop) to call up *****y and say if I and my penis could make a house call.  She had moved to her new place close to the border, but my car could make it the morning after getting new oil and its tires rotated.  The apartment she shares with her son feels more like a cottage.  No matter; unlike the townhome she used to live in, where we had to hide in her bedroom, she wanked me on the couch in the living room, right where the front door is.  If the blinds weren't closed, someone would have been able to see *****y pull up her sweater to show her big tits inside her bra, me getting hard from seeing that, me slipping out of my jeans and her jacking me off.  I don't know if I would drive all the way to see her again, but maybe!  Total: $150.
• Later, when I came back home for dinner with Kentucky Fried Chicken in tow, Father paid me back for the chicken and for Powerball tickets.  An Infusion of: $31.

This list was getting long in the tooth, but I did this EWR faster than the past couple ones.  Good through January 17.

The TV Just Up And Helped Me

So the television set in my bedroom, the one that I got for free from my friend's friends, the one that My Father put in my bedroom when My Fucking Parents decided to redo my whole goddamn room ... well, it's been a challenge.  My Father replaced my TV set (and put the one I had, the one I bought, in the den that he would use once in a blue moon) probably because this one I got was bigger than the one I bought.  It has become clear since I started using it, however, that the I bought, even though it's much smaller, is more technologically advanced.  Beyond its old age, there are very small, first-world issues that make me not like this TV as much as the one I got for myself.  It takes more than ten seconds for it to come on, for example.  Also, sometimes the remote control doesn't work and I have to tap it on the back a few times; these guys really took this television through its paces over the years.  Finally, it doesn't have a "recall" or "back" button in the traditional sense.

What it does have instead is a feature whereby you can see up to the last six channels you were on (or fewer; it stores in memory the channels you were watching since you turned on the television).  You hit this TV's version of a "recall" or "back" button and six squares pop up on the bottom of the television screen.  They're all blank, and for a while there it pissed me off that I couldn't toggle between two channels.  But then I hit the remote's down arrow and voila, that's where up to the last six channels appeared in those boxes.  (You hit the down arrow again and the, I guess, "third" row are all the channels you have programmed onto the TV, and you can use the left and right arrows to scroll through them.)  So I finally understood how I could flip back and forth through channels; it's certainly not as fast as just hitting one button, but if I wanted to go through three or more, I can't really think of a faster way to do that.  So, it's a compromise.

Another thing so bothersome about this TV's interface comes from those six squares.  They always appear on the bottom.  If I'm watching a game on TV, the scorebug (the graphic that shows all the pertinent information on the game you're watching, such as score, which quarter/half/period is it, how much time is left, etc.) usually is on the bottom third of the screen.  So when a channel pops up and I want to just quickly see were in the game that game is before I go back to the other game, I can't see the score; instead, I see those stupid six boxes.  Yes, I guess I could wait the five-to-ten seconds to check the scorebug, but like I said, doing that is not in my nature.

Another graphic that popped up at the bottom of the television screen is the channel graphic.  You know, whenever you flip to a channel, you will see graphics that state what it is, like "41-2," or something.  So, if I want to use the "recall" or "back" button to toggle between channels, what happens is you select that channel from one of the on-screen boxes, the channel comes on with these six blank boxes obscuring your screen for four seconds or so, then the channel graphic obscures your screen for another four seconds or so.  Highly annoying, and not very user-friendly.

But then, maybe a few weeks ago, the damndest thing happened.  The channel box, the graphic that first appears when you get onto a channel, jumped from the bottom of the TV screen to the top.  Now, the graphics don't block my view of the score for as long as it did.  I have no idea how it happened.  I played with the settings, but I'm sure I didn't select anything unless I knew I wanted it.  It looks as though this TV, even though I'm sure it predates artificial intelligence, understood intuitively how upset I was that this graphic was blocking the scorebug, so it knew to place it on the top of the screen.  Now, why it couldn't do the same thing with the three rows of six squares, I don't know.

Still, I'll take it.  I'm glad the TV "got" me.  But is it good that it has a mind of its own, like HAL in 2001: A Space Odyssey?  Honestly, with the way the country is right now, being spat out into space to die because AI was afraid it was going to be killed isn't the worst way to go.

Oh, Just Leave Me And My Shit Alone

You know, giving me tea is OK, especially if it's sweet as the lemon-flavored one Father's given me a couple times over the past couple weeks.  But he gave the tea to me because he thought I was coughing too much.  The first time yes, the second time no.

And yes, I have thought from time to time that I could use a light cord in my closet so I could actually look through my clothing.  I didn't ask My Fucking Father for one.  Now I know that he went through my closet.  Why the fuck would he be going through my closet?  He would not know at all that I can't light the light in my closet without opening it and going through my shit.  So that scares the fucking daylights out of me.  I can't shove my cum towel in there anymore because one day, he'll see fit to look through my closet just because he has fuck all to do and see my cum towel.

All these two motherfuckers have done is break every boundary I have and done things within my circle of privacy that is up to me alone.  This goes beyond meaning well.  This is them thinking they can do whatever they want with me and my stuff because they have no respect for me.  I guess I could punch them, but they'll be leaving soon, so maybe I'll just say good riddance to their meddling asses.

(And yes, I take back all the good things I said about them in this blog post.  For now.)

And after lunch today My Father told me to clear the driveway of snow.  I don't know if we even got half an inch.  But I cleared it anyway, even though I really, really wanted to not even step foot outside to begin the New Year.

Fuck what I said before.  I can't wait for them to leave.

End Of 2025 Thoughts

My now ex-boss ... yeah, he was a guy.  Not only did he announce he was leaving through e-mail the minimum two weeks before he actually leaving, today, his last day, he didn't stay the whole day.  And he just e-mailed everybody peace before he left for his car five minutes later.  We all made a goodbye and thanks card for him, but my co-worker had to run it out to him as he was about to leave.  I think I said this before: I would rather have him than a micro-manager.  But geez, this is the guy who hired me for my first full-time job.  He helped me turn into a responsible adult.  I would have liked to express my gratitude in a less shallow way.

---

My co-worker to whom I leaned up for much of my job left at the end of 2024, so in that sense, 2025 has gone full circle.  It has been a challenge to see my job, and thus me, change, mostly because people above me were leaving.  (I forgot that my supervisor left in the late summer; I still haven't recovered from that.)  We'll get by, only because we have to.  But I have no idea what this change will bring, and I don't like change as a principle.

I think the main thing that happened in my life, though, is Mother's knee surgery.  I am able to live much of my life independently, and for the most part I love living alone.  I haven't been able to do that for the past seven or eight months because of what Mother has to go through.  I always adapt, and I am glad that she got her knee fixed (even though she complains that it is not as good as she wants it to be), but some days it hasn't been fun having them around here ... and yet, I want to cherish the times I have with my folks when they're good, like when Father helped me clear the driveway of snow, or every night I get to eat a great dinner my parents made.

My neighbor's death a few weeks ago still weighs on me.  She is the person in my life I have lost this year, so in that sense, I have been quite lucky.  That's why I want to enjoy my time with my parents when they should be halfway around the world.  One year I will look back on the year with great, intense sadness.  I know it'll happen, and I don't want it to.

---

I'm driving down to my friends' place after I get finished with this blog post.  Hope I survive the drive down and back.  It's a tradition I intend on continuing for as long as possible, as a signpost that, despite all the setbacks and wrongs and pain I might have incurred through the year, I made it.

Happy New Year, everyone.  Let's make it a good one.

Father And I Got Along Like Two Peas In A Pod!

You know when I said I didn't think Father really meant it when he said he wanted to spend the holidays with me here at home?  Well. ...

I woke up late in the morning to see flakes fly outside.  I've seen and driven through worse, but I didn't want to chance a risky drive to St. Paul just to see a hockey Game, especially since it was supposed to get worse.  I told Father, who noted the snow outside, that I wasn't going, so he fixed me up a sandwich and fruit to eat for lunch.

Later, for dinner, I convinced my parents that since I bought a couple extra bottles of sparkling apple juice, this would be a good occasion for us to break out the apple-cranberry bottle in the fridge.  So, even though it wasn't Christmas or New Year's, we got to celebrate a "big dinner" (and it was big -- nice pork and salad ... they went out for dinner last/Sunday night).

Right after that, Father wanted to clear the driveway.  I thought it better to wait, but he went out and prepared a pair of galoshes for me, so I went out too.  I've obviously plowed a driveway by myself before, and once you get that machine going, you're unstoppable.  But I've got to say that it was really, really nice to have My Father help with shoveling all the small parts of the driveway, like the walkway up to the stoop and right next to the cars.  He even helped scrape all the ice and snow off of my windshield.  With both of us doing it, that chore went by even faster.

And finally, after I got back in from plowing, I decided to finally wash the bedsheet, something I've wanted to do for a week now.  When I grabbed it from the dryer, Father saw me and said, "Aw, I could've washed it for you tomorrow."  "Nah, that's OK," I said, "but thank you!"

It was a nice, friendly conversation between father and son.  In fact, Sunday was a beautiful and ... well, loving day between us.  You know, for all my misgiving about my parents -- all the fake sentiments, the lies, the passive-aggressiveness, the fighting -- I have fantastic days like this with them when we're the family we should be and I forgive all that other crap.  My misgivings and grudges totally melt away.

You know, right now, I actually believe My Father wants to spend the holidays here with me.  And I want to feel this feeling more often.

Expenses Without Receipt

Past time to do this again.  Starting from Sunday, December 14:

• Actually, let's go back to Monday, December 8, which is when Father paid me back for both lottery tickets and the denture sticky strips he needs to eat.  He was scouring the entire city looking for them, and he said he couldn't find them.  Hey, the Internet's good for some things.  An Infusion of: $21.
• And back on Wednesday the 3rd Father also paid me back, this time for Kentucky Fried Chicken as well as lottery tickets.  An Infusion of: $20.
• All the way back to Sunday, November 16 (damn, I need to do these more frequently) ... so I was in town so I went from the airport to ****e's place, where she proceeded to (after an early lunch) yank my cock out of my pants to suck it, and then to fuck.  Goddamn, I don't know where I'd be without her.  Cost: $120.
• And then on the way back I needed to fill up my gas tank.  This was one of those times where I overestimated how much I needed to put in, so when the host stopped, I had to go back inside to get the difference.  Thought $23 was going to be enough, but instead I only needed: $22.30.
• All the way back (again) to Sunday, October 26 (I have to do these more often!) -- I was supposed to fuck ****e then, I went all the way down there, but she wasn't even fucking there.  I still had the urge, however, so I pivoted quickly to calling ******e could give me a wank, and thank Buddha, she could.  Paid her: $120.
• Friday, October 24: I wished Great Clips gave out coupons more often.  Haircuts (there and everywhere) are getting fucking expensive!  Everybody is seeing inflation in their own way, and I see it most starkly when I get a haircut.  It's making me think I should go to a barber school and get them done for cheap.  But I went on Facebook and found a $10 off coupon for Great Clips, and I was able to use it then.  With tip: $14.99.
• Back on Friday the 17th I paid my co-worker back when, on a previous day (don't remember when), she asked if anyone wanted anything at Caribou.  I was really jonesing for oatmeal, so I promised to pay her back, and I think I did it on this day: $4.
• Finally, three EWRs on Thursday, October 16.  First, I went to see ******e for a HJ: $120.
• Then I went to Bebe Zito for lunch, namely a honey chicken tenders basket.  With tip: $15.14.
• Finally, with that basket in tow, I walked next door to Caffetto to pair it with a Dog 'n' Suds root beer.  With thip that root beer cost me: $4.54.

Hmmm ... thought that would take longer.  Phew!

Good through December 14.