I decided that last/Monday night, I was going to spend my time after work going through my storage unit.  Glad I did; I am somewhat relieved I finally began to address my stuff.  Didn't make much of a dent; rearranged stuff from three or four bags that ripped, mostly.  But already, the pile in my first unit, which was over my head, is now only up to my neck.  Sure, that's because some of my stuff is in the secondary storage unit around the corner.  But I get a psychic lift from seeing that pile go down.  It gives me the push to get back there sooner and go through more of my stuff.

Speaking of which ... I brought a bag of my stuff home.  It's mostly papers, so at the very least I will read them.  But tentative as they may be, these are steps I finally am able to take.  Hopefully it's not too late.  Hopefully my parents won't be back for a long time. ...

Well, I did The Quad, and once I did, I went home and immediately went to bed, around 11:30.  Got up to pee once at a quarter to 4, but conked back off and promptly had a nightmare about something I can't remember now.  Was pretty much up for good at a quarter to 7, or maybe 7.  All in all, very recuperating, and the reason why I am blog posting this morning ... and why I need to leave now.

On A High From Eating Sushi

Had sushi, as well as sashimi, last night at this pop-up by a guy making a name for himself.  My bleepin' Buddha, that was great.  In particular, the yellowtail roll I had was excellent.  I'm not even a sushi guy, but since that first bite into that sushi, I've been on cloud nine.  It's so good, I will feel bad once I eat something else because I would feel like I'm disrespecting both the yellowtail roll I consumed and this guy who made it.  I should starve myself to death, because that is an appropriate last meal.

I think this sushi master wants to open up his own place, he just doesn't have the capital yet.  Well, if he keeps this up, he'll be able to line up the finances in due time.  And I will go eat at his place.

I'm A Desperate, Horny, Forgetful Goddamn Lush

So I'm starting this blog post at a quarter to 4 in the morning.  I'm doing what I want to do over an extended holiday -- staying up, surfing the Internet, listening to music (this time terrestrial radio on my boombox).  But my cellphone is plugged into my power bank.  The fuckin' thing is pissing away energy.  I juiced it up to 80% last nigh, then unplugged it like you're supposed to, but then within, oh, half an hour of active doomscrolling, it couldn't even hold its charge for that long.  When it dipped to 76%, I plugged it in again, hoping I would unplug it once it reached 80% again.  But I knew there was a chance I'd be distracted by looking at my laptop, and of course I did.  It soared well past 80%, which I hear is bad for my phone (even though it's already in not-great shape).  At this point, if it's already past 80%, I might as well charge it all the way so I can delay when I need to charge it up again.

That's the forgetfulness I hate about me that reared its ugly head over the past 24 hours.  This past evening I made myself a cocktail, a margarita featuring juice from a lime that I bought over a week ago that may or may not have spoiled.  I drink too much already, so I'm trying to hew to the "1-2-3" rule Dr. Vivek Murthy recommended in his last days as President Biden's Surgeon General.  The problem, I realized while drinking the margarita, is that that was my fourth drink of the day.  I started off with a bloody mary in the morning while watching the English Championship Play-Up Match (won by Hull over Middlesbrough in a 95the Minute Goal), then had a cider at the United FC Match, then had a beer with a Farina Rossa pizza after the Match at a craft brewery.  And this is on the heels of drinking three drinks Friday ... and two drinks Thursday ... and two (or was it three?) drinks Wednesday.  All I can say is, I drink a lot.

Oh, MNUFC has a program where you can drop off pop tops at their waste receptacles.  I have a pile of them, and I was going to bring them with to drop them off, but I forgot to put them into my cargo pants.  I didn't leave them in my cargo pants because, unlike my denim jeans, my cargo pants don't have that fifth "watch pocket," and I didn't like the feeling of those pop tops jangling around inside a big pocket on my cargos and potentially falling out if I'm sleeping in my car and put my legs parallel to the ground.  But all day yesterday I reminded myself to put those pop tops in my pants.  But I didn't.  Oh, and then I took out the pop top on my Wild State cider intending to deposit it ... and I fucking forget to do that, too.  I meant to be rid of these pop tops, and I wound up collecting more.  And even though there will be a MNUFC2 Match at Allianz Field in one Month, the Loons are off because of the World Cup for two Months.  Fuckin' great.

And all the while I've been trying to see if I can arrange a fuck session with ****e.  Earlier last week I texted her; no answer.  I texted her again, saying I am free either today or tomorrow; she just said, "ok."  She gets this way sometimes, minimally responsive and vague.  I asked for clarity while eating pizza and eating beer last night, but she has yet to respond.  I'm horny enough that I want to make booty texts to all of my stripper girlfriends (even though a lot of them are out of town this Memorial Weekend, dammit) so I can get some lovin' this long, lonely weekend.  But ... fuckin' A, ****e is the only one who'll let me inside her, so I gotta give her every chance to get back to me.  But what if she's on one of her episodes where she ghosts me?

This weekend is supposed to be fun.  In many ways, it is.  And I am seeking every which way to find the negative in all of this.  Maybe that's a sign that I should fix myself instead of just rationalizing my decadence and inattention as part of enjoying the long holiday.  Or, maybe I should just say fuck it all.

They Stay The Same Age. But Me Getting Older Might Be A Problem After All

So after work last/Saturday night I went to this roast beef place just south of my company.  I was on my way to the Black Hart to see MNUFC play (and lose -- goddamn, what a fucking shit pass to give up the Game-winner).  I really, really wanted to see The Preakness Stakes, but because I decided to stay a bit over to grab even more overtime, I thought I resigned myself that I probably wouldn't make it to the Black Hart to see the race, especially since I had my heart set on getting this place's legendarily good roast beef after work last/Saturday night because it will be the only time in the foreseeable future 1) it would be on my way to doing other things and 2) I would naturally be hungry right after work.

I get there and the cashier taking my order is a beaut.  Fuck yeah, she is gorgeous.  But young.  I think, and hope, not teenager young, but she could not have graduated from college.  Seeing a hot young woman speaking to you, even only because she has to, brightens my day, so I order a roast beef sandwich cheerfully.  And what do you know -- this restaurant actually has a TV.  (I've been to this place before, but it's been years since the last time, so maybe they didn't have a TV then.)  I could relax and let go of my stress because I could see the horse race after all (well, the reception was poor, but at least I saw Napoleon Solo outrace the other horses at the stretch run without the feed cutting out).  I had an excuse to talk to this babe again; this time, I requested the TV be turned on to the Preakness, and because I had a reason to stay beyond eating my sandwich, I ordered french fries too, which I had planned to order until I decided to stay late at work and calculated that even though I couldn't catch the race in time, I should still make an effort to get to the Black Hart as quickly as possible ... which makes no sense now that I typed out that thought.

Anyway ... have no complaints with her service.  In fact, when I ordered fries, she just skipped past the tip screen, which I guess means she likes me ... ?  But it's not as if I could chat her up or anything.  She served me my roast beef and fries, and that was it when it came to interaction.

Still, she is fucking hot.  And as I finally left after eating and watching the race, it just so happened that three young women entered and immediately began speaking to that cashier.  They obviously are friends with the cashier from school who dropped by to chat or eat or both.  They were fucking hot, and unlike the cashier, who had to dress for work, these friends dressed for the hot weather we had and, well, dressed like young women, with their goddamn boner-inducing midriffs hanging out and shit.  If I didn't have to go -- and if I were younger and less savvy -- I would sit down and steal looks at these three babes.

And then I realized that it was most important for me at that time to go because I had plans.  I can say that my younger self would've dropped everything I would've done because ogling these chicks would be an urge I could not get over.  And beyond that, the age gap was so apparent as to be instinctive.  Even if I could assume these women were of college age, they still would be less than half my age.  Could I even think to have small talk with them?  What would we even talk about?  TikTok?  The new Olivia Rodrigo album?  What they're studying?  Finally, from the quick glance I took of the faces and bodies of these three hotties (do people say "hotties" anymore, or am I cringe saying that?) I think ... well, that they all look the same -- with each other, and with the cashier they said hi to.  Maybe if I sat and looked at them for a longer, creepier period of time, I can discern distinct differences.  I mean, they can't be quadruplets.  But am I wrong to think that all young women these days look alike?  I don't think I can say yes, but I'm going to stick to my guns and not say no.

Not going to lie; if I were a lot younger, I would be masturbating to the memory of these four babes.  That feels ... wrong now.  So maybe Matthew McConaughey was also wrong in Dazed And Confused -- even though what his character is saying would now be construed as Trump Disease:

Working Five Days, Being Paid For Eight!!!

Damn, I am racking up the overtime this week.  There always seems to be work that takes me past eight hours.  But the combination of extra work in all the positions I work, plus being asked to stay late to do data entry, plus one of my co-workers taking this week off, meant that there was a ton of work I had, and could, do -- and I did it.

I have one huge incentive to work as much as I can this week.  My co-worker?  She works Saturdays. The company is really hurting if people don't work on the weekends, so a couple months ago, my boss asked if I could work today in her place -- and OT was available.  I leapt at that chance with the quickness.  Guaranteed time-and-a-half two months before it happens?  That helps me plan ... and anticipate!

And once work made me stay just over ten hours Tuesday and Wednesday, I could envision a scenario where I would work ten hours Thursday and yesterday/Friday.  Even though I worked only and exactly eight hours Monday, staying an extra two hours each day of the rest of my normal workweek meant that I would have worked in extra eight hours by the end of yesterday/Friday.  I would have worked only five days, but 48 hours.  Now, add in today/Saturday.  I might be able to stay for OT, but actually, I want to leave in time to grab dinner and then watch The Preakness and then the MNUFC Match.  But even if I stay just eight hours today/Saturday, that means I would have worked over 56 hours this week.  That's an extra 16 hours of overtime, and at time-and-a-half, that means I would be paid the equivalent of 24 bonus hours this week!  I am working six days, but working the equivalent of seven days, and then getting paid the equivalent of eight days!!!

This doesn't beat the week I worked more than 80 hours wondering if I could get double time after I reached that point.  (In case I didn't blog post that, I didn't.)  But I don't remember the last time I worked so much in a week since then.  And I need every single bonus penny I can get from the overtime.  Gas is expensive now!!!

Holy shit ... both the Timberwolves and the Wild won last/Thursday night, and thus won their First Round series last/Thursday night.  It's the first time ever that both the Timberwolves and Wild made it to the Second Round of their respective playoffs in the same Year.  Ever.  That's how shitty Minnesota sports has historically been.

And moreover, the Twins won last/Thursday night, too!

Seriously, could yesterday/Thursday be The Greatest Day In Minnesota Sports History?

Well, ******a texted me out of the blue and said that she can finally massage.  Before she said we'd shoot for Saturday, but this afternoon she told me she could come over tonight!  No exercise for me today, but that's OK if she's going to rub me down!

Seriously, I'm not looking for anything.  The furthest I'll go is getting completely naked for her, which is how I usually am for any massage.  If she says yes, I'm totally happy.  I would expect a normal, clean massage from then on out.  If there's anything more than that ... well, that would be a complete surprise.

I'm just hoping that I don't scare her off -- either by asking if I can be completely unclothed or, more likely, by all the stuff that's strewn around the house.  I hope she doesn't hate messy.

I Need To Stop Worrying About Bad Things That Might Happen And Instead Celebrate The Good Things That Actually Happen

Had to call Mother last/Monday night because there were a lot of bills that came in.  There were also a couple letters I thought she needed to know.  One of them dealt with a credit card that is about to close if my parents don't use them soon.  She told me to put it in a bag for mail she needs to look at "When she comes back home."  And I realized that it's been three months since they left and, even though I believe them when they say they're going to stay out in Las Vegas a little longer than they usually do, eventually they are going to come back.  And that makes me sad.  Not only have I not done a damn thing in regards to going through all my stuff, but I like living here on my own, as I usually do when they're wintering.  Them coming back, whenever that is, truly feels like an invasion of privacy.  And I will rue the day when they tell me they're returning here.

But I get down like that even though I don't know when that'll be -- or, and maybe I'm thinking wishfully, if they come back.  I know I need to look at the bright side -- very bright side in the case of Michigan winning the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament later last night.  That means I have won about a grand in this big bracket pool I've competed in for the past two decades.  While I always play hoping I would win, never in my wildest dreams would I think I could beat out almost 1,300 entries to place, get this, fourth.  Sure, I would have rather won and pocketed the five-figure jackpot along with it.  But I was much, much closer to the bottom for last year's Big Dance.  Honestly, I am more proud of myself for finishing in 4th place in this than getting my degree.

That's something worth celebrating, and if I celebrate hard enough, I'll forget that one day, and maybe soon, my parents will come back home.

Best Sleep I Ever Had ... Most Awkward Morning I'll Ever Have

Work was hell yesterday.  They were short-staffed at data entry, so the person who would've helped me in The Third Department was keying most of the day.  Thank goodness she was able to help out near the end of the day; there were stacks of papers that allowed tests to be processed, and honestly, I had so much other shit I needed to do that all of that stuff would not have gotten done.  That's a lot of tests that would've waited till today, and people would not have been happy.

Still, I was busy with my own shit.  I knew before coming in to work yesterday that we would be short-staffed.  I had plans yesterday to eat dinner, then go see roller derby.  But leaving work on Thursday all tired and ragged, I was afraid that I wouldn't have time between work and roller derby yesterday, so I broke my planned edict not to spend any money on Thursday and ate dinner (and grab that free birthday ice cream cup) at Culver's.  And, sure enough, I had to stay an extra couple hours at work, so once I decided I hate to shut things down, I immediately went to roller derby, which was an excellent time featuring a championship bout where one team came back from, like, 40 points down in the First Half to take the lead late, only to lose by two Points at the end.

I ate at roller derby, and since this was in a good part of town to eat, I ate a knockoff Taco Bell crunchwrap close by.  And then coming home I was listening to Duke's buzzer-beater over LSU in the Women's Tournament Regional Semifinal.  It was 11:30 by the time I got to my bed, and I think my body was telling me to go to bed.  I figured if I'm not that tired, I would wake up from a nap.

But I didn't.  I woke up when normal people wake up, around 8 or so.  I didn't expect to have a full night's sleep, and at a time when you "should," but I did and I feel really good, of course.

Then, I felt really good.  Part of me going to bed easily was because I wanted to avoid the news about whether Tennessee lost to Iowa St.  I had the Volunteers winning, and it was an important pick to keep my bracket alive for the big, big money.  I saw a skeet that Tennessee was up by one at halftime, but that was it.  I knew I had to finally find out the final (if only because I had to post on Facebook about it), so I looked at my Yahoo! Sports app ... and I saw that they blew out the Cyclones in the Second Half and won going away!  Yippee!!!

Quick update on my bracket: I went 7-0 in Round 3.  I still have Arizona, Duke and Michigan in Round 4, and I think I still am in contention for winning it all.  Out of a thousand people (give or take), I went from a tie for 15th to, get this, fourth.  I think there's a way for me to end up on top, but a lot of things have to break my way.  Meanwhile, there are so many entries that there's one guy who picked Illinois and Tennessee in the Final Four, and he's right up there at the top of the leaderboard with me.

---

And now the other shoe drops: No Kings.  Everybody's going.  Well, everybody but me.  I decided this week not to go.  There is work because they are short-staffed today as well.  And, call me paranoid, but I know that there is surveillance from the federal (don't know about the state) government going on.  I walk on the State Capitol, where everybody is, and there's no telling whether there's going to be a drone recording all of our faces.

I hate that I'm thinking this way.  I hate that I'm chickening out and using work as an excuse, and I am.  I am getting total FOMO right now, and the rallies haven't even started yet, because, even though it's been mentioned in many places, the No Kings March in St. Paul is going to be recognized as The Flagship No Kings March.  Out of the thousands of protests that are and will be going on around the world, it'll be ours in St. Paul regarded as the touchstone.  Senator Bernie Sanders will be there.  So will Bruce Springsteen.  And the more I write about this, the more I regret not going.

And the worst thing about this is the text I got on Messenger.  One of my friends, who has been talking to me off and on about this current installed government, just asked me if I was going.  She, of course, is going, and more power to her.  But I don't know how to tell I'm not going.  We've talked about how much we hate this government and are trying to figure out how to rebel against them.  Surely I would go to something like this, right?  No.  And I don't know how to tell her.

I think she's waiting on an answer.  Maybe I'll take a shower and think up something.  How awkward.

My Buddha, I Think I'm The Bracket King

So I have bitched and bitched here for years about how badly I start off the men's basketball tournament.  This year is different, by far.

I still can't believe this, but I just finished Round 1 with a record of, get this, 29-3.  I have never done better in a Round 1 in my life, and it ain't fuckin' close.  I'm sure my best is, like, 17-15, or maybe even 18-14.  But only three wrong?  Moreover, those three I got wrong (Ohio St., St. Mary's, and Villanova) I had going out in the next Round.  That means that my champion pick (Michigan), the title pairing (Florida), my Final Four (Duke and Arizona), my Elite Eight and my Sweet Sixteen are all intact.  Obviously I have never, ever been able to say that before.

While this puts me in a position way better than I ever have been before in the two bracket competitions I'm in, I know that, because there are so many people playing in the giant pool I care more about (because I could win a lot of money), there are people who are doing even better than me.  It sucks to have a year where you nearly nailed all of the upsets and, just as important, knew to avoid the wrong upsets.  I thought I was Senor Hotshit when I went 14-2 after Thursday.  I wasn't even on the leaderboard.  I wasn't even on the second page.

So the Games continue, and once I again my nearly-pristine bracket will stand in judgement.  There are many Games in Round 2 I need to break the right way, and if, somehow and someway, I can get the picks right at the same rate as I have up to this point ... I might have a good tournament.  Wish me luck!

When Second-Guessing Is The Right Thing To Do

When I leave for work in the morning, I frequently forget something to which I need to shut down the car, open the front door to my house, and disarm the alarm in order to retrieve what I left behind.  It's usually my cellphone, so it's a pain-in-the-ass to do my steps backwards and then do them all over again once I find my phone.

This time around, once I turned my car on I forgot something else, namely an envelope Mother asked me to stuff with tax forms that had to be delivered here and not to my parents' condo in Las Vegas.  I wondered when I would have the time to get to a post office to send it.  We've been so busy at work that swinging by the post office close to me would be fruitless because they would be closed by the time I'm free.  I thought Sunday would be the earliest I could do it; I would be able to go down to ****e's place for a little screw time, then in the afternoon I could go to the post office at MSP before going home.

Two things wrong with that.  First, and I don't remember when I checked, that post office branch isn't exactly on the way back.  I would have to deviate east for a bit, then jog back west in order to head north.  Second, I would be downtown both last/Tuesday night (for a concert) and tonight/Wednesday night (for a Golden Gopher baseball Game).  The downtown post office closes in the evening, so if I get out of work early enough, I'd be able to go to the post office, mail the envelope to My Mother, then do whatever I want downtown because I'm already there.

In anticipation of that, I was going to throw that envelope filled with Mother's tax forms in my bookbag so I would have it with me if I had the time to send it.  But, alas, I forgot.  Oftentimes I would remember once I am more than halfway to work, and for those time I just mentally shrug and say to myself I'll do it tomorrow.  But once I remembered the envelope after I started my car, I just kept thinking that the moonshot of leaving work with enough time to mail the envelope and then go to the concert was a risk worth taking.  So, I turned off my car, went back inside, disarmed the alarm and picked up the envelope.

And good thing, too.  While I had to stay late at work, it wasn't late enough where I couldn't still get to the post office, pay to ship the envelope, find another parking spot, and walk for almost a mile to the club to get to the concert, which began at the strange hour of 6.  And so I did all that, and I caught the last couple songs of the first of three acts and the entirety of the other two (with a DJ filling in the set changes while stagehands haul off musical equipment).  Plenty of time.  Now, I think about how badly I would have screwed myself if I remembered the envelope before driving off to work but said whatever.  Glad I trundled back inside, because a sizable chore for Mother has been done.

The Sleep Reset I Didn't Know I Needed

I didn't think I would pass out at 10 p.m., but I did.  My body told me I was real tired, so I listened to it, and I woke up around 5:30 and I feel good, even though I also feel a bit out of phase.  I back down to Day 1/10% bonus in Zynga Poker, but for a good night's sleep, I'll take it.

I really, really want to watch the EPL downtown.  I was going to do that yesterday/Saturday morning, but work called.  Also, I don't want to go to the bar on a day when a club whose supporters gather at this pub are playing.  That's most weekends when there is more than one Match going on (and on principle I don't usually don't go on a weekend when there is only one Match going on at a time), but yesterday/Saturday was one of those few times.  The next Saturday, I think I saw, was in mid-March.  However, there are three Matches going on this/Sunday morning, and none of them involve a club that meets there.  I didn't even think of going today/Sunday because they all kick off at 8.  But I'm awake now, so I can go!

But wait -- how about those damn people?  They had a goddamn checkpoint set up yesterday morning.  I don't see one now, so I hope there won't be one when I get back.

One other factor: The snow.  Only an inch fell, but it'd be just my luck if I get into a crash this morning.

And Another Snow Day!!!

This is more than ridiculous; this is fucking absurd.  Either this is one fucking monstrous snowstorm or Southerners really don't know how to deal with snow and ice, because when I woke up and checked my texts, my boss said there wasn't a shipment again this morning.  Third day in a row.  We've never had two days of no work, let alone three.  So, another snow day!!!

Not to complain too much, but you really can't enjoy a surprise day off if you have to wake up assuming you don't have the day off.  Compounding that annoyance is that today, because I was scheduled to go in and cut packages open, I had to wake up early.  Then, once I saw that someone was going to go in to work and do everything for the rest of us, I tried to go back to sleep but couldn't.  (This despite having only, at most, 90 minutes of shuteye overnight.)

Unlike yesterday, today I had planned on going out: There's a volunteer event my financial planner is putting on very close to my house.  And since he's treating everyone to dinner afterward, hell yeah, I'm going.  And since I am taking the car out today, I might as well go to the Walker today and use that offer to see the museum for free after buying a ticket to the Arrows.  I had planned on going Saturday, but the chances are now very good that I will be working that day, so I switched plans and went just today.

You know, I know I'm not enjoying these surprise days off as much as I should because one day, this will all be over and we will have to go back to work.  Something good will be taken from me, and anticipating that will happen makes me very, very sad.  But that day wasn't today.  And, to be fair, I really thought that it would be yesterday and it wasn't.  So I'm riding on free money.

The one thing I'm lacking right now is sleep.  I have to end this blog post now in order to try and get a nap in before I go to this volunteer event.

Another Snow Day!!!

Alright, now this is getting ridiculous.  I wake up at my normal weekday time expecting to come in.  I check my phone, of course ... and I see that there has been a group text created with my boss and co-workers.  I still didn't quite understand it (or maybe I just didn't believe it), but apparently the shipment was expected to be so meager again this morning that not everyone had to come in today, either.  This text chain started a quarter after 4 this morning, so obviously I was late to the party, but from what I picked up, it was determined that there was such little work that, like yesterday, one person could come in and do my job and another person's.  It looks as though one of my co-workers volunteered to do that, and, after I texted my boss and another co-worker to make sure I'm seeing what I'm seeing, I asked, and was granted, today off.

Woo-hoo!!!  Hell yeah!!!  But damn, how bad is the storm down there?  Given the work we get is important, I thought they would need Sunday to recover, then be back fully functioning, or at least get up off the mat, by yesterday afternoon so they could at least start getting caught up with giving us a sizable shipment (if not more than a full day's shipment) this morning so we could, you know, work.  Guess not.

So we might get two days' worth of work tomorrow morning, and tomorrow is when I have to cut open packages.  I probably (unless the mid-South needs yet another day to recuperate) will be opening so many packages that I'll get carpal tunnel syndrome.  But that's tomorrow.  I have an interesting (at least to me) dilemma right now: Whether to work out at my gym.  When I got the day off today, I thought it would be a good time to finally get out and exercise.  But then I fell asleep again from around 10 till a bit before 2 -- much needed, by the way -- and now, I don't know.  It's above zero, which is miles warmer than what it was before, but it's still pretty cold.  I just saw on the map that these motherfuckers are still here; they just took a Latina woman this morning.  Finally, if I surprisingly don't have to work, do I want to start up my car?  Do I even leave the house?  You know, I think I should take advantage of this serendipity and stay at home -- completely at home, a one-day lockdown, like the weekend.  There's a bike that Mother used as a clothesline, but started using as a bike to help heal her knee.  I should get on it and just exercise here.  Yeah, I'll do that.  And I'll go out to the gym this weekend.

I Still Live In A Safe, Peaceful Neighborhood

So I ended my lockdown -- which, once I stepped a bit after 9 at night, totalled a bit more than 75 hours -- I was confronted with a very nice surprise.  Not one but two of my packages, comprising of several of the many items I ordered online at once, were at my stoop.  I thought they would get here after my lockdown, but apparently that wasn't the case.

So I checked online.  As is often the case, their initial days of delivery were moved up.  One package, which were two windshield wipers, came, according to them, on Thursday.  The other package, a two-pack of water filters, arrived Saturday.  So, if they're right about when they actually arrived, I had two packages, one stacked on top of the other, sitting outside my front door, for one and three days?  And no one stole them???  I've heard of the rampant scourge of package thieves, and I don't doubt it, but I have to be honest with you, it's never happened to me, at least not yet.  I've come home late into the night to see packages at my stoop and I've wondered how no one has taken them.  But one day would be a record.  Three days, though?  It's pretty much a miracle that both packages were still there.

Or, maybe I live in a neighborhood where people respect other people's stuff, and don't feel the urge to take things that are not theirs because they have stuff of their own.  For as unsafe and scared I have felt these days, that's a reminder that this place is still pretty safe and peaceful, Buddha bless it.

Snow Day!!!

I hate surprises, but when the surprise is an unplanned day off, I love surprises.  Well, it wasn't quite unplanned.  There's that huge snowstorm just south of us (I think that's the reason we've had below-zero weather for the past four days) that is (or was) dropping inches of snow and tenths of inches of ice.  That's where we get our work from every day.  There was a very good chance that no work would come in today since the mid-South is still dealing with the cold and ice and digging out of the snow.

And, as far as I know, that is what's happening.  I woke up at my normal time, like I would be going in to work like normal, but I texted my co-worker, who works early, if there is any work.  I waited a while but, just before I headed out, I got a voicemail from my boss saying that there isn't work (or at least no work when she checked this morning), so she said I could take the day off.  And I am!

Now, for all I know, a shipment came later this morning.  But even if there was, the number of forms has to be so meager that my co-worker could take care of it by herself.  But assuming the South will rise by tomorrow, we are going to have to play catch-up.  That means longer hours, and it may be so much work that the day off I am enjoying now I will make up later this week.  But hey, until then, I am enjoying my day off here ... where I am taking naps, cleaning the humidifier, and getting scared they're going to knock on my door.

Of All The Times I Needed A Half-Day ...

Getting yesterday/Tuesday afternoon off turned out to be a godsend.  I woke up from my evening nap Monday night at around 11:45 p.m., so I didn't get a wink of sleep through the overnight.  With my body dragging, me spending the morning cutting open packages and dealing with a particularly nasty leaked bag of piss, and seeing my city still being besieged by our own federal "government," I was so looking forward to not working in the same afternoon we were all supposed to walk out.  I was even assigned to data entry, but I didn't do it; instead, I worked on figuring out this new software we are supposed to know in a couple weeks.

And I didn't make much headway into that, either.  No, I was into doing ... nothing.  Well, I take that back; I had a lot of chores I felt I had to do.  I had to:

• use my haircut coupon before it expired;
• get my photo taken for passport purposes;
• buy groceries to hunker down for this cold, cold weekend we're about to have;
• finally drag some stuff out of my storage unit
• and do something for Mother at the bank

Now, come to think of it, I was really busy, and productive.  I didn't finish all of these things before 2 p.m., which was the scheduled time we were all supposed to "walk out," but around 2:30 I shut the door with no intention of opening it unit this/Wednesday morning.  I took a shower and then, while fully naked, settled into my bed because my body was finally tired.

And I woke up around 8:30.  Wow!  Five hours of hard sleep to reset my body.  Felt really, really good, even if this continues to throw my body clock out of whack.  And my "slangriness" has completely left me.  The anxiety over these people abducting me, however and unfortunately, remains.

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.

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.