I Have To See Supergirl Again Because I Took A Shit For Too Long

I have this -- I think I've spoken about this before -- OCD thing whereby if I don't see a movie from the beginning, I will, most likely, pay another ticket to see it again so I can be sure to see it from the beginning.  Now, that is kind of a problem if I don't drop everything and make a concerted effort to get to the theater in time to make sure I see that film from the beginning.  But until last/Tuesday night, the last movie whose start I missed was Equalizer 3.

Well, I missed the start of Supergirl.  And what I really hate about myself is that I planned on getting there in plenty of time, and everything that I needed to happen so I could get there in plenty of time happened.  I was given a shift where, if I had a normal shift, I would get out at 3:30.  I never have a normal shift at work, but I only had to stay a little longer, till 3:45.  The listed showtime is 3:50, and they have so many trailers that I knew I had plenty of time to get there.  And I didn't want to get there so early that I would start looking at my watch to see how long after the listed showtime will the damn thing actually start.  I've grown to hate trailers, so, after I punched out at work, I went to the bathroom.  Nature called.

And that's where I fucked myself.  By the time I got done relieving myself, I looked at my watch and saw that it was, oh, around 4:05.  The theater is close to work, but it still took me about ten minutes.  And even though I was able to get a ticket, the guy giving me my ticket said I missed the first 5-10 minutes.

Goddammit!  I lollygagged.  I didn't look at my watch.  Seeing how much time I thought I had when I clocked out made me overestimate how much time I really had.  I was doomscrolling as I was pooping, proving once again that looking at your phone promotes brain rot.  And, sorry to get too graphic, I did have to go.  I picked up a limited time honey brown butter bacon, egg and cheese biscuit, a sausage burrito, and a coffee from McDonald's on the way to work, and that lubricated my excretory system.  It was the second time I had to void waste during my workday, and so when you need to do #2, you can't just say you're done if there's more you need to force out of your body.  Maybe I shouldn't've eaten any breakfast at all.  That would mean I wouldn't need to doo-doo, and I could've just gone to the theater instead.  But nope, I had this great plan laid out before me, and I just tossed it to the side.

And what really makes me hate myself?  Sorry, I don't think Supergirl's that good.  Now, please don't get this twisted.  There are a lot of Republicans and incels who hate this movie for culture war/rage bait reasons, which are not legitimate reasons.  I thought the movie was kind of rote and, um, boring.  But my OCD compels me to buy another ticket so I can see this mediocre flick again in its entirety.

I plan on seeing Toy Story 5 after work today/Wednesday.  I was hoping the showtimes for that movie and Supergirl would line up in such a way so that I could get to the theater super early, buy my ticket to Toy Story 5, and sneak in to see the start of Supergirl, then go see Toy Story 5 from the start.  But unless I get there in the afternoon, that can't happen.  Welp, that means I need to see Supergirl again either Tuesday or next Wednesday.  That's when the price of tickets are the cheapest at the theater I go to.  I may have OCD, but I also know a bargain when I see one.  And hell, I might change my mind and not see this C+ movie from the beginning anyway.  But I could've just avoided all this mess if I would've  taken advantage of the time I had and shit quicker.  So disappointed in myself.

Seizing An Opportunity, Or Throwing Money Away?

I have to admit I haven't been going through my stuff as much as I thought I would now that my parents have been gone for almost four months.  And when I say "as much," I mean almost not at all.  I hadn't even looked at the boxes I brought in from storage until Monday night, and even then I have only thrown one piece of paper away because I had a duplicate sheet of paper with the exact same information on it.

Meanwhile, the shit in my storage unit keeps piling up.  It is way over my head now.  Moreover, there are containers I've bought that are precariously on top of paper bags of my stuff that probably have shifted.  It's all too much, obviously, and beyond the fact that I need the will to go through it all and the time in which to think and to, if I want, peruse all the magazines and other reading material that make up the vast majority of my stuff, I need some space in which to move stuff around.  Can't do that now that my 5x5 is just about full.

So that is why I had been thinking, for some time, about getting another storage unit.  And I really, really want to get one for the short term, just to give me that space.  Yes, famous last words, but I'm too hemmed in to do stuff right now.  And besides, if I had two storage units, I could literally re-do my storage unit so that, once I am ready to go back down to one, I would have everything in the unit I want to keep all tidy and organized because I would have a spot in which I could reorganize everything.  As much as I would like to go through my things in my basement, it'd be much better if I could do it all in one building.  Having another storage unit there helps me do that.

I finally began looking to see if the unit place had another unit open.  They did, and the 5x10, which would have been perfect, was put up on special, like a 33% discount if you paid for half a year.  But I had till the end of the month, or Friday, to rent it.  After thinking for several days about whether I want to sink a few hundred more dollars into a storage unit I may be keeping for the long term (if I were being honest with myself), I decided, yes, this would spur me into finally getting my butt into gear and to actually go through my stuff.

Last/Tuesday night I went online to rent the 5x10 ... and the deal was gone.  The unit was there, but the only price point available was a month-to-month, and it was expensive.  However, there was just one more 5x5 available at that same 33% discount and which also expired on Friday.  It's not what I wanted; instead, I'm getting the exact same-sized unit.  But still, it doubles the amount of space in which I can store my stuff (temporarily, I say to myself).  Do I pass this by?  Do I wait and potentially allow someone else to get this?  Finally, do I say to myself I'll think it over and then completely forget about it by Friday?

The amount at which I'm getting the unit is a relative steal.  I don't know how much it would be if I need to extend use of the second unit for another half-year, but I won't have to deal with that problem until just before Halloween.  So I got it.  I don't exactly know where it is, but if it's not right across from the unit I have now, it's close.  I'm imagining spending an afternoon being productive by shuttling between units, throwing things away, reading magazines all by myself, and finally putting order to chaos.

Or will I?  I still have several boxes of things I haven't gone through downstairs, and it's been four months.  I might swing by the unit place (with the circle lock -- which, I should say, I bought on Sunday anticipating my decision to rent out this second storage unit) and start ... or I might push it off till this weekend ... or do it next weekend ... or next month ... or never, and I will have wasted hundreds of dollars because I just didn't want to expend the energy to do the thing I know, deep down, I should do.  But if I do do this, I needed to get this rental now while it's on sale.  Otherwise, if I decide I need a second storage unit later, it'll cost me even more money.  Or, I could just tell myself I could just finally get around to looking through my stuff and, you know, do what I promised myself I would do.

What I do or don't do about this situation will tell me a lot about myself, I'm afraid.

Still Fucking Haven't Done My Fucking Taxes Yet

One of the things I try to do in the month of March when it comes to taxes is list, in my day planner, all the numbers that I need to fill out the returns -- wages, withholding, capital gains, etc.  Well, it's down to the penultimate day and I still haven't done it.  Is it laziness?  Sure, maybe.  But I've been pulling down overtime like the dickens this month.  Also, I've been preparing for March Madness by doing research, and then ... well, yeah, I've been going out.  There are a lot of freebies I can get at restaurants, and by the time I'm done and come back home, I'm just tuckered out.

Things are going to be tight the next two days, too.  I'm seeing Project Hail Mary (in IMAX for only five bucks through my wireless carrier) tonight/Monday night.  Then, tomorrow/Tuesday is a day off for me.  Not to do my taxes, but something much funner than that, namely bringing in my parents' minivan for an oil change and tire rotation it might not need but I'm gonna do anyway because they won't tell me if it needs them.  Also, back when it was colder, I started the van and saw exhaust coming out of the passenger side.  Going to have them look at it, see if anything can be done, and how much it will cost to fix.  Oh, and anything else they see.  Hey, it's a beat-up car, but I need it to run, so if there's anything I can do to extend its life, I'll do it.  Shh, don't tell my folks.

OK, that ain't so fun.  But assuming nothing catastrophic happens when I bring it in in the morning, I'll have the rest of the day to watch the World Cup Playoffs.  There are still six spots available for the tournament taking place in the summer, and those spots are going to be determined in Matches played that day, specifically five in the afternoon and one at 10 at night.  I am going to see them all, if at all possible.  In particular, I'm going to my alumni Game-watching bar for the 10 p.m. Match.  It's for the last spot in the World Cup, and I want to enjoy seeing it.

Yeah, so with all that, how does one do their taxes?  Hell, how does one even begin to even look at their taxes??  I know, right???

Where's My Remote Control?

I got home tonight/Saturday night and I can't find my remote.  I know I watched college football late, and I know I didn't turn on the TV yesterday/Saturday morning, so the remote should be where I left it, right at my dresser.  But it's not there, nor is it anywhere on the bed or on the floor.

It's killing me because now I can't turn on the television.  Well, yes, I can walk up to the TV set and turn it on, but why would I want to?  I want to lay on my bed and see the TV from there.  So I've been going without TV watching ever since I came home.  And I think I'll be like that until, or unless, I find my darn remote.

The Pains Of Being A Leader

So I organize a Game-watching event for my alma mater's football team.  For the past decade or so, we have, for the most part, congregated at this bar in downtown Minneapolis.  I think things could be better, but for the most part, I like it there.  It's centrally located and, I have to admit, many of the servers there are total babes.  Besides, someone else found this place, and I decided we would just keep going there because we have built so much familiarity and trust.  Well, that or inertia.  Possibly both.

I think we have been treated well by this place over the years.  That's why our group keeps coming back.  Of that group, we have about half a dozen or so who are diehards, those who have been to most of my Game-watching events going back many, many years.  I love them because I get to see them throughout the fall.  I would have no reason to do this if they didn't continue to show up.  So, if and when they have a concern, it would be my duty to listen and consider their grievances.

So, a couple weeks ago our alma mater's Game was on a Saturday night.  It was getting busy, but we found a table.  One of my regulars -- and seriously, this has been the group's A1 from day one -- comes in.  He's been under the weather lately, but he still managed to show up to root not only for our alma mater by also for The Los Angeles Dodgers, of whom he has been a lifelong fan.

Like I said, it got busy.  Not a big deal for a Saturday night, at least in my estimation.  After about five minutes my friend leans into me and says, "You know, I think I'm going to be leaving soon because the waitress is pissing me off."  Whoa.  He's never said that before.  Maybe things were going to blow over because we found a table closer to a TV that would show our Game, but after we scrambled to that table, he decided to leave.  He had a Dodgers hat on; he was planning on staying several hours to watch our football team and the Dodgers.  But he left maybe 15 minutes after he came.

Later that evening, after both the Dodgers and our football team won, I texted him.  I apologized if him leaving early was my fault.  It wasn't, he said, but it was the servers, two of them.  First, and one of the other regulars noticed this when I kind of brushed it off: One of the waitresses told my friend he should not be using a high chair he took from another table because a low one was available at our first table, but my friend's health issues get exacerbated when sitting too low.  There might have been an issue regarding the possibility that this low chair was underneath our first table, so maybe the server didn't know my friend couldn't see it.  Second, another waitress wanted us to wait to get onto this second table until she cleared all the dishes and glasses and wiped it down.  I think that's fine; in fact, I think that is what servers are supposed to do.  But the way my friend put it in his text to me, that was the final straw.  He felt disrespected twice, and so he split.

He was planning not to join us for our team's previous Game because that was on a Friday.  But they're back on Saturdays now, and so I would expect him to come.  But will he?  I wanted to ask him earlier in the week, but I got so busy ... well, to be honest, I have been thinking up the right words to say.  Look, I have left restaurants and bars before because I felt disrespected.  If you feel that way, go up and leave.  You should.  The problem is is that if you feel that way, you never go back to that place.  But that would mean, for me, that my good, good friend, and he's a real good guy, is never joining us for these Game-watching events ever again -- unless I change the venue.  And I am loathe to change our venue.  Sure, it would be nice to have the sound on.  There is a school with a bigger alumni group that literally takes over the bar when their Game is on, forcing us to one table or even to another place.  And maybe going downtown is a deterrent.  But it is such a pain in the you-know-what to patronize a brand-new bar that won't push us aside for a bigger alumni group.  As many disadvantages we've had to put up with, the equity we have built over the years is, to me, still worth staying at this place.  And, finally, I would like to think the slights my friend felt are not so serious enough to not go back.  But that's my perspective, not his, and as a leader, I feel like I have to take his considerations into account seriously.

So, what to do?  I need to text him to ask if he's coming.  Hopefully he'll say he'll give the place another chance.  But if he doesn't want to come back ... well, I don't want to change the place just because he's no longer comfortable going there.  Sure, you can call it laziness, but I don't have the energy to find another sports bar, I just don't.  Does that make me a bad leader if I make the decision to stay?  Maybe, but I can't see myself doing anything else.  So it's my friend or the bar.  And I can't decide.

Sucks being a leader.

Oh, Just Die, You Dumb Bug

Yeah, insects are becoming an issue.  After being afraid of a big ant that wouldn't die and having to change bathrooms to shower because of a lazy damn bug, there was another damn bug, a small beetle-looking idiot, that found itself at the top of my bathroom sink (this was about a week ago) and then sauntered on down just short of the drain (this was maybe Saturday or Friday).

It obviously wasn't a problem while it was hanging up on top.  But now that it was near the bottom, I wasn't able to wash my damn hands.  I opened a trickle a couple times just so it wouldn't drown, and some other times I just skipped washing my hands.  But I tried, man, I really tried to get it to leave the basin by holding an envelope of those, um, floss toothpicks (you know what I mean, right?) out for it to latch onto.  I feel bad that one time it may have gotten its front legs on it and I jerked the envelope away too fast, so it tumbled back into the basin.  Otherwise, it would just avoid the thing like the plague.  I need to use the sink, dammit!

Yesterday/Sunday I kind of had enough.  I opened the faucet a couple times to the point where I may have drowned it.  Then, after I burned my thumb carrying a pan of bread that just got done in the toaster oven, I went back to the bathroom to cool off my hand.  I may have forgotten about that insect, but frankly, I was more worried about putting my thumb under water.  And so I turned the faucet on all the way, and yep, clumsy, cruel me saw the small, dumb thing disappear down the drain.

Maybe I should've given it more of a chance.  And hell, if this beetle is anything like that ant, it'll crawl up the drain and scare the shit out of me.  But frankly, I've had it rearranging my human time to accommodate this lazy and/or dumb bug.  God made a hierarchy for a reason.

Time To No Time

I have, or had, the luxury of knowing I had some time to pack everything up and clean the house (or, really, get the house cleaned) before my parents come home.  Right now, I am in the middle of a penultimate weekend.  I have the whole week, then another weekend and then, if need be, two more days before it's all over.  Even considering my procrastination, I knew I had those two days to just throw everything into boxes and make several hurried trips to my storage locker if need be.

Well, I don't know if I have any free time now.  The killer blow, so to speak, is finding out that alternative band Helmet is playing here Monday the 10th.  Now, I only know one song of theirs/his, but it's "Unsung," one of The Ten Best Songs From The Grunge Era.  (Note that it has a long, wordless outro.  It's the "Layla" of the '90s.)  And even though I might not know or even like any of their/his other songs, I am making a point of going to a concert to see a band or an artist even if I am going for that one song of his/hers/theirs.  I in the past have decided not to do so for other acts, but on how I keep crushing on "Unsung," I'll do it for Helmet.

But I had plans on staying home that night, presumably to pack everything up.  Now, I checked online and the ticket is a bit pricey, so maybe I won't go.  But if I do, that's a very important date where I won't be getting the house ready.  And once I envisioned that, it started to feel as though I had no days where I could stay in and move out my stuff.  For example, on Monday I think I am going to that stripper awards ceremony.  On Tuesday I will probably be wiped out from work, but then I'm going to see Captain America: Brave New World just as Putin's Orange Bitch starts speaking in the U. S. House chamber.  Wednesday or Thursday I am eating out at my speakeasy one final time before my folks return, and on Friday I am going to see my ATF at My Favorite Stripclub (Cover Division).  Plus, I can totally see my weekends being just like the one I had yesterday/Saturday: Wake up late, fix me a drink, find something to eat, be so tired from drinking and eating that I take a nap, wake up from said nap, and watch TV all night.  And so I would waste all this time -- again -- when I needed to clean the house.

Maybe I need to stay in instead of exercise, like I plan on doing tonight.  But I just have no motivation to clean my house when I don't want to.  But every day closer to the return of the 'Rents will force me to question that motivation to be lazy more and more, till I ... well, do it or give up.

Addendum To: Politics Ruins Everything

I don't know if I've talked about this before, but this freakout over Biden's poor debate performance has been followed up with near-universal calls for him to leave the race ... by newspapers and journalists.  It has been so overwhelming that -- and I hate to sound conspiratorial, but I truly believe this -- it feels like a coordinated effort.  I have not been so disappointed, so frustrated, with so many writers I read and follow on social media that once I saw them (in my opinion) turn traitor and call for Biden's head, I had to unfollow them.

It is nuts how journalists have the knives out for him.  First of all, and more importantly, Trump's the asshole who's facing him.  Do they remember what the country was like with him installed as president -- the rudeness, the superficiality, the laziness (Biden's sleepy?  This motherfucker wouldn't roll out of bed until noon, there would be workdays where he wouldn't do shit, and he golfed every goddamn weekend.), the blatant self-interest, and how he allowed every Republican huckster and corrupt apparatus destroy the government to fill their own pockets?  I remember that at least one writer thought Biden won in 2020 -- fair and square, I might add -- because people just wanted a return to normal.  Well, this is what normal looks like: A booming economy, record low unemployment, low crime, a refurbished reputation abroad, canceled student loan debt, and days where we wouldn't even fucking hear from him because he wouldn't be a dumbass.  That's what we want -- right?

I also remember that back in 2016, nearly every newspaper endorsed Hillary Clinton over Trump.  Little good that did, although no one knew at the time how much Trump asked Russia to help him cheat to win the presidency.  And now, eight years after they unanimously repudiated his nomination, they are, in effect, endorsing it by going after Biden.  Not only is Trump the same cromulent son-of-a-bitch he was back in 2016, he has a track record of being an incompetent asshole.  But Biden's the one who has to step down?

These writers have spent the past week spewing these fucking worthless thinkpieces about who could replace him, and how it would work four months before Election Day.  I'm no political scientist, but I know there is so much bullshit Democrats would have to do between now and then that it would be impossible to get a new person to replace Biden as the nominee.  Why even try?  And how in the hell would these reporters think that shit would work, huh?

I have been trying to #IStandWithTheMedia.  But that loyalty has cracked since The New York Times has showed its whole ass in trying to tear down Biden because Trump as president sells more copies.  And now that everybody has seemingly gone after a good man who had one bad debate and are trying to stoke the fires of getting him dumped before the Democratic National Convention, with no consideration that changing horses midstream like this probably hasn't been done in at least half a century, and ... I'm done.  I'm fucking done.  Journalists should know that if Trump gets the presidency again, their industry -- their asses -- may literally be on the line.  And they're helping him anyway.  They're helping him now.  Fuck them all.  It's a broken industry.  I hate that I studied it in college, but I'm glad I'm not in it now because I would probably be seduced by what is making these writers stomp on their own brains and dignity in helping deliver this country into fascism.

---

I talked about going on this local news source website and commenting on people who seemingly want Biden gone.  I actually thought about deleting it because I didn't want to contribute to a toxic environment on a website I like and pay for.  But I re-read the comments to which I was responding, and I stand by my statement, so I'm leaving it up.

My comment was directed at two people.  One of them, and he's known as a pretty jovial guy in the comment section, says he understands the danger Trump represents.  He's not voting for him.  Now, he didn't say he'll vote for Biden.  But I'll take that bit of good news.  I liked his comment.  I also apologized for not being a good person while I argue over politics.  I don't want to be angry, and I definitely don't want to be mean.  But this race is too important for me to remain silent and pleasant.

I Might Be Having A Heart Attack

So I was back working back in The Fourth Department to see my co-worker, who has been at the company since time immemorial, not there yesterday/Thursday.  Didn't think he was taking any days off.  Moreover, I noticed an hour or two into my day that his desk looked eerily empty.  That should be an impetus for me to start looking at other jobs.  I won't say he was perfect as his job, but neither am I, and if something ... uh, unexpected and not his choice happened to him, the same thing could happen to me.

But I'm not worried about that right now.  For one, I'm lazy and I caught myself doomscrolling through my evening again.  More importantly, however, is that I am feeling heart palpitations and a hard-beating chest again.  I have felt bouts of this for a long time.  I think I started feeling as though my chest would burst open as early as freshman year, in fact.  But I have been feeling this way for about a couple days now, and I don't remember feeling this hard, this heavy, before.  Also, my skin is tingling, especially down my left side.  I am feeling aches in some parts of my body I don't usually feel aches in, and I have scratched myself a lot more the past couple days than before.

Weird as this sounds, I think this is a sign that I need to exercise, and hard.  If my blood is pumping, it might that I use that pumping to work my body.  Or, I am having a heart attack.  And if so -- well, you're seeing my notes about it here.

Now My Psychotherapist Says I Should Push Myself

So last week I was able to speak with my psychiatrist because my work schedule allowed me to get out of work early.  Sometimes, frankly, I struggle with figuring out what to say to him.  I want to talk to him.  Sounds bad to admit this, but I don't really talk to my friends or family about my struggles or worries.  It's my shrink that I speak to.  Have done it for many years now.  But sometimes things are so good that I, well, struggle to talk about things.  That's partly why I only speak with him sporadically.

What I came up with, the thing that I'm "struggling" with right now, is finding another job.  My rush to leave my current job has cooled, mostly because of insouciance and inertia.  My friction with my boss has abated, even though it's not because we solved anything; it's because there has been such little work that I haven't been able to accrue overtime to finish the work I need to finish, and therefore my boss hasn't yelled at me over OT in a month or more.  I should look for other work anyway, not only because this issue could rear its ugly head if work picks up but, somewhat paradoxically, I need to find a job that gives me more to do than what this one has been able to give me all year so far.

But I haven't looked in a while, and that's the problem that I mustered enough effort to talk to my therapist about, even though, to be fair, I raised this issue with him when I was really considering leaving my job.  I admitted to him that I haven't looked lately, however.  To which he ... well, he didn't snap at me, but he was more forceful with me than he ever has with me before on any other subject I have raised with him.  He said that my boss and this company don't value me, that I am worth more, and that I should look for another job that helps me fulfill my potential.

I hear him ... but I don't hear him, you know what I mean?  This reminds me, sadly, of the times Father would talk to me about going back to school or finding another job.  I understand I could potentially put myself in a better place but ... man, I just don't have the energy.  Father hasn't done that with me in years.  Maybe it's because he finally realizes it's not working, or that he's just happy I have full-time work, or that he's just tired in general.  So it is kind of jarring to hear my psychotherapist essentially take over Father's job, especially when I have spoken so much about Father to him, and usually not in a positive light.

And, bottom line, I probably won't do anything about leaving this job unless things get really, really bad there again.

I'm Not Looking Forward To This Vacation??

Alright ... so I leave on vacation this afternoon, and yet I haven't really packed.  I mean, I have, but I don't have a clear idea of what I need to bring.  Well, I kind of do -- clothes, toiletries, score cards for Cardinals Games -- but before, I would actually write down a list of all things I was bringing, even the obvious items.  I'm not doing that for this.  It might be because I think I have what I want to bring in my head.  But honestly, I think some of it is laziness, and some of it I attribute to ... well, not looking forward to this vacation.

How can't I?  My main motivation is to chase the eclipse.  I'll expound on it later, but it's an awesome sight, and since it won't be coming around for another 20 years in the continental U.S., I should be anticipating it with eagerness.  But, I'm not.  I don't know, maybe it's the situation with the job, but I'm just so ... blah with everything.

Well, too late to back out now.  Besides, I know I will regret not doing this if I do the rash and stupid thing and cancel my vacation.  I just hope that when I leave for the airport, I don't forget anything I need.

Long-Ago Friend; Casserole/Hotdish

OK, first thing: I loved the Lenten Fish Fry I went to last night.  I hung out with my usher acquaintance/friend and we had a great time.  Honestly, I was worried that I would automatically throw my defenses up because, frankly, we don't know each other all that well and it's been decades since we've seen each other.  But she was open with me, and in turn I was open with her, and we hung out for a few hours and it was great and easy.  Also, St. Albert the Great deserves its reputation of having one of the best fish frys in the Twin Cities.  It was packed and homey and inviting and, besides one alpha male not being quite in the festive spirit, everyone there was so nice and generous.  Gosh, I could go again.  Unfortunately, it'll have to be next year because I don't think I am free the next three Fridays.

---

Went to sleep at around 10:30, I think, and woke up around 7:30, and ever since, I've been looking at how to cook a casserole/hotdish on the Internet all morning.  The anonymous worker at my company left another batch of vegetables.  After leaving them all day, I saw that there were still a potato, a couple carrots and a few onions.  Combine that with cans of black beans and tomatoes that are still in our pantry, the bag of processed shredded cheese my parents bought on sale from Hy-Vee, and the rice I know my folks will notice I haven't touched since they left, and I felt compelled to make another hotdish/casserole to take care of a lot of the leftovers I still have at home.  It'll save me money, even if I don't want to cook the meat tonight and just want to buy pre-cooked meat instead.  My slapdash approach to making this, however, scares me into thinking I'll screw this up.  My first hotdish had directions; I'm throwing this one together, so I don't know, in particular, how long I should cook what I'm making.  But right now I'm in the mood of rushing headlong into something despite not knowing what in the heck I'm doing.  Wish me luck!

And I'm Completely Lazy, Too

So a snowstorm hit last/Wednesday night, the first real one of the winter, actually (4 1/2 inches, according to the yardstick I used to get annually at the State Fair).  I am glad I postponed seeing my ATF at My Favorite Stripclub (Cover Version).  But does that mean I can't go out?

Well, actually, it should.  I still have so much shit lying around, and there's no telling when my parents are coming home.  So, I could have used this snowy night to pick up my things, read through old papers, organize and possibly throw away shit, you know?  But ... AMC Theatres is doing a smart thing by allowing its showplaces to screen art house films that have been nominated for Oscars.  Moreover, when they are screened (the thing is is that these movies are shown usually one day a week, one screening that day, and it appears as though the day is random until showtimes are released every Friday, and I am guessing this is only going on until the ceremony), it's only five bucks.  AMC sells tickets for $5 on Tuesdays, but for these art house flicks, it's $5 any day.  Last/Wednesday night they were showing The Holdovers, and even though it began to snow real hard over the evening and I missed the last ten minutes of The Conners, I'm glad I went because it was an excellent film.  The first time an Alexander Payne movie had heart, to be honest.

This decision, however, reinforces my epiphany that, even though I had six months of my parents being out of the house, I was never, ever going to get around to even beginning my grand plan of finally doing something about all the stuff I have accumulated.  Yeah, I spent an hour shoveling snow.  But I could have stayed home and looked through my shit.  Nope, I wanted to see a movie instead.  I am too unmotivated to do a damn thing until I absolutely have to.  And since I don't have to quite yet, that stuff is still going to be strewn everywhere around the house.

I'm a failure.  But I gotta be me, I guess.

I Hate It When My Car Mechanic Talks Down To Me

Well, I am glad I asked and then was given permission to drive my car to the car shop Wednesday night and not last/Thursday night, even though they said they couldn't look at my car till today/Friday.  Turns out they caught up on their work and so was able to look at my car yesterday/Thursday.

That, I reckon, is the good news.  The bad news ... well, turns out the cost to fix what was ailing my car isn't that bad.  But the reason, according to the mechanic, as to why my dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree on Monday is, of all things, it needed an oil change.  Now I am not sure if even they know if what they did was the right fix.  But they said that the engine light code that was spat out had something to do with the camshaft or the crankshaft, and there was a timing issue that made the actuator go out of phase ... honestly, when he tried to explain it to me, nearly the whole damn thing flew over my head.  The thing I think I got is that the oil pressure got so low that the timing of ... uh, something got out of whack.

And then he started in on the oil.  He said it was running a quarter low, which doesn't sound bad to me, and it was quite dirty.  Hell, the dashboard indicator didn't say it was time to change it.  But this is where the car mechanic (who owns the place, by the way) started to admonish me about lazily depending on the car to tell me when to get its oil change and not the sticker he routinely puts on the top of my windshield.

Unfortunately for me, this is not the first time I ran into trouble with him regarding checking my oil.  Two visits ago he informed me that the reason I heard shaking noises from my car was because it had no oil left in the engine.  So he made me paranoid to check it.  I did, religiously.  I even threw in a quart once when it looked like it had only 25% left, and subsequent dipstick checks made me think that I in fact overfilled it.  And now he tells me losing a quarter of the oil that could be in my engine is enough to signal all these indicator lights?  Get out of here with that.

He was not done lecturing me.  He says the tires are worn out, too.  Now, ****e*, the stripper who cleaned my house a couple weeks ago, said the same thing.  I checked the tread and thought I could last another year, or before next winter.  But he made the executive decision to rotate the tires because what once were the front tires are at the bare minimum of usefulness (even in perfect weather).  "I drive my car hard," he says.  I don't think I drive it farther or harder than anyone else.  Besides, I use my car to, you know, live my life.  What's the saying?  "A ship in harbour is safe, but that is not what ships are built for."  (John A. Shedd, in 1928.)

So my car maintenance, according to him, isn't enough.  I need to bring my car in for oil changes more frequently, I guess.  And shoot, maybe the tires need to be changed sooner rather than later.  Oh, and when I come in pick up my car this morning, he is going to give me some reading material to take with.  I think he said it was a Technical Service Bulletin, or TSB.  There's more stuff that needs to be fixed?  Or is it another thing my mechanic thinks I should do even though there's a chance I won't do it?

Either I'm going to give in to whatever he thinks should be done to the car and bring it in before my parents come home, or I won't see him again until the indicator lights come back on, whether it be next week or six months from now.  When I come back might depend on how badly he talks down to me.  Man, if this guy were a dentist, he'd condescend to me about not brushing my teeth twice a day.

Not Prepared For My Stripper Girlfriend ... Cleaning

She is coming over today/Saturday, and unlike previous times, I have my stuff strewn everywhere around the house and I don't have the energy, and therefore don't have the compunction, to pick all that stuff up.  I need ****e* to clean and dust and mop the floors, but that last thing might be difficult to do if my stuff is in the way.  Well, I'll tell her she doesn't have to clean there, or maybe she'll move stuff around in order to clean.  She's very OCD like that, which I like now because I'm being lazy, but might become an issue if she moves things around that I don't want moved.  We shall see.

It's A Beautiful Day Outside. Why Am I Staying In?

Because I'm spending too much money and I have designs on cleaning around the house.  I have made spaghetti (tapping one of the numerous plastic tubs of spaghetti sauce Mother made for me before my parents left) and will eat a burger later.  As for chores?  Eh, I'll take a nap first.

To be pedantic, even though I am not spending any money "today," I technically did charge to my credit card on this calendar day a ticket (via a discount given to me by T-Mobile Tuesdays) to see Killers Of The Flower Moon after midnight but before I went to bed.  To me, since I haven't spent any money since I woke up, I haven't spent any money "today."  OK, maybe I'm not being pedantic -- I'm being a liar.

I guess I have to admit that I'm taking it easy on myself even though there's a ton of stuff I could do.  A lazy Sunday inside for me ... even though it's gorgeous outside.

Just between you and me, I haven't been feeling great lately.  It goes beyond the bloat I feel from eating too much, something that won't be alleviated because I'm hitting the State Fair a couple more times before it's gone.  But I've been coughing some too, and I've been blowing my nose more often as well.  I hear allergies are kicking up, and August is the time I get my second wave of it (mostly from ragweed, even though I don't know if ragweed levels are up right now).

Do you know what's also kicking up?  COVID.  I have been kind of loose with the precautions (asshole at the Fair aside), so I easily could've gotten it.  Man, I wish I could get a new vaccine.  Well, if it's too late, I hope I'm healthy enough to live through it.

I Am Afraid I Am Getting Mask Fatigue

I continue to wear surgical masks at work.  You never know, and besides, if there is ever a place to keep wearing a mask, it's in an indoor setting where you're relatively close to people for 8 1/2 hours a day, right?

Well, sometimes the masks I get are bad.  I've come to the conclusion that the boxes the masks come in have varying degrees of quality.  Sometimes the masks are relatively small for my face, so when I stretch the loops to take it off (to drink, to blow my nose, etc.), they snap loose.  If one does, it's almost certain that the next mask I get, which likely will come from the same box as the first one, will also be too small and also will snap.  And they do.  I have gone through half a dozen one morning.

And I am going through a similarly bad run as of late.  I believe I had to get a new mask twice on Monday and twice one day last week.  Yesterday/Wednesday was going to be different; it was going to be a day where the mask lasts the whole day (it usually does).  But about an hour before I was done with work, I unhooked myself to finish off my coffee and snap! there went the loop of the mask.

And to be quite honest, my initial thought was: "Well, I'm only going to be here for an hour longer.  I can go without it."  But then common sense (as well as a pull to toward the routine) kicked in and I grabbed another mask.  (It seemed larger than the one I had been wearing all day, for the record, so I'm guessing it came from a different box, a better one.)  But that thought wasn't uncharacteristic of me as of late.  I am getting mask fatigue.

I have resumed how I lived my life before the pandemic began: I go out to eat a lot and attend movies and concerts when I want (well, my previous blog posts about passing the Fleet Foxes show notwithstanding).  I usually wear a mask, and quite often an N95 mask I have hoarded (and sometimes, at least for this hazy summer of smoke, a ventilated N95) over a surgical one, either one I have in my car or, if I'm going somewhere straight from work, the one I have been wearing at work.  But I've been slipping.  I have slipped my masks off indoors when eating or drinking something, and now, when I sit down to eat, I keep it off until I put it back on.

Lately I have stopped putting a mask on if I'm dashing into, say, a gas station to pay for gas.  I have let my guard down for longer periods as of late, too; I watched Bullitt Monday night (and have I told you how much of a badass motherfucker Steve McQueen is?) and I kept my mask off after I got done eating my popcorn and drinking my Coke.  Moveover, the past couple weeks I have become acutely aware that I am one of the vanishing few walking around with a mask on when I have been at, say, Target or the Mall Of America (I really felt awkward when I was at the latter Independence Day/Tuesday).  I hate that I have allowed to creep into my head the thought: "Do other people think I look stupid still wearing a mask?"

I don't know if COVID-19 has reached an endemic phase.  Maybe it's still a problem but The Media isn't covering it, so it's easy to dismiss now as a dark chapter in humanity's history that's finally behind us.  But like I said, you never know if some chump coughing up a storm next to me while pushing past me on the concourse at Allianz Field (I know I'm going to lose my temper there again on Saturday) is spewing the 'Rona.  Or the flu; that can still circulate during the summer.  And heck, mask-wearing might come back into vogue in the winter months, when more people are cooped up indoors and the coronavirus won't be automatically vitiated by the outdoor air.  But yes, I am catching myself slipping from mask-wearing.  Some of it is risk I'm willing to accept.  But I think some of it is me finally getting tired of a killer that might not be tired of me.

It Was In My Wallet The Whole Fucking Time

Alright, over the past day or so I have seen and done things which, upon further reflection, makes me want to drive my head into a brick wall, repeatedly.  The absolutely stupidity of all that is that shameful to me.

I think I've got a few such instances to make blog posts from, and hopefully, I'll remember to do them all.  (And if I don't, that's another reason to hate myself.)  But I'll start with, I think, the shortest story.  I had a hankering to go to Raising Cane's yesterday/Saturday afternoon because I was somewhat close by and, well, I wanted to.  But when I went (I went to a cemetery beforehand and went to my storage unit afterward), I realized I didn't have my rewards card.  I thought I could just give the person my phone number to input in; I mean, you can do that at Caribou.  But I couldn't do it at Raising Cane's.  Fine; maybe I'll be able to input my receipt once I get home and get into my account.

Today, I realized something really, really simple and stupid: I didn't even open my wallet to look for my Club Caniac Card when I was thinking I didn't have it in there.  I assumed it was in another spot, and I forgot to check that spot before I left, and so I just, well, didn't think to look.  And before I left today, I thought to just search through my wallet.  And boom, there it was, my Club Caniac Card, in my wallet.

And by the way, Raising Cane's won't let you put in your receipt after the fact.  Goddamn, I hate myself right now.

I made a point of getting on my laptop before 2 a.m. so I could do my daily spin on Zynga Poker and stay on Day 7/400% bonus.  I am fairly sure I was on there by 10:30 p.m., 11:30 at the latest.

I didn't get on to Facebook until just now, around 2:15 a.m., and of course I'm too damn late and have reset myself all the way back down to Day 1/10%.  I kept it up at Day 7/400% for weeks.

Stupid me.  Stupid fucking lazy me.  There were a couple things I needed to do on my computer, sure, but as soon as I turned my lap on, I completely forgot about the one thing I turned it on for.

I feel as though whenever I have time to burn, like the hours before I feel like going to bed, I will not do anything I need to do.  Now, when I have a deadline, or I have this many minutes before I, say, go to work (like I did with the blog post just before this, which I did before work yesterday/Tuesday morning), I'll make sure I do what I set out to do.  If I have all the time in the world, though, boy, any to-do list is neuralized out of my mind.

What the fuck have I been doing the past three fucking hours?