Addendum To: No One Tells Me Anything

Oh yeah, I wasn't told that someone was going to drop by and plop a new tree in the front yard, either!  I talked to the Head of Forestry for my city (yes, my city has a Head of Forestry) because I was curious as to what kind of species this tree is.  I left a message when I called the city on Friday; I got a return voicemail at work yesterday/Monday, and I left a VM, and he called back.  Before he told me what tree he selected for our residence, he told me that we should've gotten a letter saying that a tree was going to be planted soon.  Nope, I didn't get a letter.  Now, I did get a letter earlier this year saying, albeit after the fact, that they removed the stump from the old tree that they removed around the holidays and that it was our responsibility to water the grass seeds they put in place of the stump (I didn't do that; I might blog post about why some other time).  But like I said, even though the markings of gas and water lines should have tipped me off, the city did not warn me ahead of time that they were planting a tree.

Yep, no one tells me anything.  That makes me scared that my parents will come home, again, and not tell me beforehand.

The woman who looked at the house Monday texted me at work yesterday saying the claim with the insurance company has been filed.

What does this mean?  I don't know all the ins and outs.  But Mother said, when I spoke to her also on Monday, that if they can get reconstruction on the house going, they'll be flying home to oversee it, probably next month.

Well, on the one hand it sucks that they're not going to just stay away from Minnesota for a whole year even though it's now the coldest time of the year (or at least it should be -- damn you, El Nino).  On the other hand, I don't have time to oversee people re-do the house's roof, siding and gutters.  Plus, this is my parents' idea.  If they want this done, they can come home and watch the house.  In the meantime I need to work ... and then at night go to concerts ... or sporting events (like I did last night -- USMNT beat the Canadians, 1-0!) ... or plays ... or do nothing.

Glad I got that off my chest.

Another Conflict Preventing Me From Seeing My ATF

My parents now seems hellbent on getting the roof fixed.  Don't know why, but I think tomorrow/Monday, after work, a second person is going to inspect it, and maybe the siding, too.  Look, I don't know the first thing about home insurance, so I'm just going to defer to Father and this roofer and the insurance company (maybe, this is an insurance company after all).  It's yet another thing I've been thrust into "knowing" because Father wants it done.

What I know, and care, about is that it might be cock-blocking me from ******a coming over.  See, this all started late last week, when Mother asked me to call her while I was at work.  Once I got home, I called her, and she told me this second roofer wants to see the roof Saturday morning.  That would've worked until, like, Wednesday, when I picked up a gig at the Gophers football Game.  (Glad I took it, if only to have a great vantage point of the fans storming the field after they beat Michigan at home for the first time since '77.)  Mother gave me the roofer's number to text an alternate day and time.  We agreed on Monday evening, which is a little late considering the time of night the Sun sets nowadays.  But Mother wants this done ASAP, even though I have Friday free.

Once we agreed to Monday, ******a texted me.  She has been busy, plus she is dealing with a bad back that appears to be preventing her from giving me a massage, but out of the blue, she asked me what I was doing ... Monday.  Shit.  I told her what's happening, so right now, I'm going to text her once she's done.  She wasn't totally committing, either, because she doesn't want to come over too late.

There are so many variables to deal with this -- when within the two-hour time period she gave me she can get here, how long she's going to be here, if I can get home earlier than that, etc.  The big wrinkle, in my estimation, is that this roofer is friends with my sister's best friend.  This roofer actually re-did my sister's best friend's roof last year.  In fact, I want to say that my sister's best friend gave Mother the roofer's information.  Well, I think I said this here on WAF before, but my sister's best friend lives down the street from me.  And by the way, the roofer apparently is friends with my sister's best friend.  Now, imagine that once she gets done inspecting the roof, she'll just mosey on down and talk to my sister's best friend for a while.  If they're there talking long enough, maybe they'll notice that someone's dropped by my house for a visit.  And then the roofer (and maybe my sister's best friend -- who knows, maybe she and Mother are besties now) will tell Mother, and then she'll ask, "Who visited you?!?!?!"  Fuck that shit.

So I'm trying to see if the roofer might be able to reschedule.  Mother won't like that she might not come tomorrow/Monday, but I need to get all my muscles worked over (including the one that matters the most, hint-hint), and I want that HE in peace.  Maybe it'll work.  Or, maybe this will be the second time ******a has offered to touch me, only for me to decline because I have plans.  First it was the WNBA Draft (Olivia Miles doesn't look so good now that she was benched for all of the Second Half of Game 2, so me throwing my glasses on the table when she was announced as the pick now seems prescient), and now it's this roof inspection I'm told needs to be done.  Bad timing is so much of my life.

And The Goddamn Motherfucking Pipe Is Leaking Again

So I blog posted about a leak in a pipe that happened the motherfucking day after my parents left town.  I don't know if I blog posted this, but a day or two later (I think) I tightened it up to the point where it didn't leak.  What a relief.  Heck, I felt like a man who could hold it down.

It was so "good" that I didn't bother looking at the plastic ice cream bucket below the clamp where the leak was for weeks.  Why?  If there is no reason to worry, I am free, you know?  Well, yesterday/Sunday I thought it was time to check, just in case, and goddammit, there was a small collection of water.  The bucket wasn't overflowing, thank Buddha, but if I had left it till, oh, Thanksgiving, maybe.

So I dumped out the water and looked at the clamp, and goddammit, the clamp is now dripping water.  All I could do -- all I want to do right now -- is tighten the screw some more.  My paranoid ass has checked it several times since, and it looks as though it is still dripping, but by an amount that appears livable ... maybe.  Shit, man, I don't know if homeowners just live with pipe leaks like this.  Besides, there was no leak for more than nine months.  I want that, not dealing with this bullshit.  And I'm afraid that if I try to tighten it more, I'll break the clamp and water would be shooting out from everywhere.

Why can't I have pipes that just don't leak?  Is that fucking too much to ask?

I'm so scared.

The Autumn Equinox Is Killing Me

I love fall.  I really do.  But that might just be my mind, because my body is not adapting well, at least I don't think.

I had enough sleep over the weekend, and yet because I only slept about four hours overnight Sunday night, I felt really, really achy at work yesterday/Monday.  Also, not for nothing, my co-worker had a bad, bad case of the sniffles.  She put on a mask, thank Buddha (I have a stash, she asked for one), but it ain't no N95 or KN95, so let's see if I'm sick, too.

I had to go this place I was at Thursday because I have a deal that expires today/Tuesday.  There was a deal that was for one day only on Thursday.  Before these two times, the last time I was at any place at this chain maybe was a decade ago, and that was in the western metro at a place I think has closed down now.  Anyway, I got there and stayed for two hours while watching Monday Night Football.  The deal was a free full order of garlic bread so long as I buy some other food, and stupidly (even though it is good), I went for a personal-sized pizza.  I didn't finish either.  And when I brought it home, I fell back into my doomscrolling stupor, then went to bed just after watching the weather forecast.

I got up for good around 6 (an hour ago as I type this), but I must have been tossing and turning in bed for, oh, an hour before that, so even though I am awake, I think I've been up since 5.  My body feels better.  But last night I did what I've done often in the past month or so.  Sure, going to bed may be healthier for me, but my parents' coming back is looming, and I haven't done a damn thing.  I need to start cleaning up, but I had a chance to do that on Sunday because I stayed in all day, but I chose to do the laundry, start (but not finish) my receipts, eat and watch football.  I will bang my head against a wall the moment my parents tell me they're coming home because I had all this time to put myself in a better position and I haven't done it.  Right now I'm sorting my week as to when I will have time to start doing that, and I still feel the pull of going out and, say, watching a play or a movie.

Maybe the oncoming winter is killing me.  Or maybe it's my bad decisions.  Or maybe it's the specter of my parents coming home, like a bleepin' sword of Damocles.  Or probably, it's all of the above.

Worried About When To Eat Pizza From Where

I'm taking the optimistic and lazy way of living through life right now and assuming my folks in fact will not come home.  And instead of doing chores, I've been looking at the Internet and thinking about when I should eat pizza, and from where.

This was all prompted when, at work yesterday/Friday, I was given this e-mail/coupon because it's my half-birthday.  It's at Green Mill, a chain of pizza restaurants I haven't been to in at least a decade.  I get a free order of garlic breadsticks if I buy some other food item.  Trick is I have to use it by the 22nd, or is it the 21st, can't tell.

Meanwhile I have a hankering for Pizza Hut.  Thought about eating from there for the season premiere of Monday Night Football this Monday.  I kind of need to, too; my points will expire if I don't buy from them after six months.  I just checked, and six months is next week.

Well, might as well have pizzas for the next two Mondays, since I can see MNF on ABC/Channel 5 for the next three Mondays.  So it's Pizza Hut this upcoming Monday, then Green Mill the following Monday.  And yes, this is how I spent a large part of tonight.

No, I Don't Want To Know When

It's been over a week since I spoke to my parents.  And when I say that, I mean literally speak to them.  Since then I have been in contact with them, through text.  I usually do that, and only do that, when there is a letter regarding an issue with one of their properties for which Mother needs some idea of what's going on, and telling her just won't cut it.

But over the past week bills have been sent.  Usually I just get on the phone and tell Mother that, hey, this bill came in and it's for such-and-such an amount.  I also tell her about checks that have come in, but when the latest one came over a week ago ... well, I just texted her that it's here.  And she was fine with it.  Then, a couple bills came and I figured this is something Mother needs to know about, so I texted her to call me, but I didn't hear from her the rest of the evening.  OK, this is unusual.  And I didn't want to wait to call after work the next day, so I texted her the nature and amount of these two bills at work the next day, and she said she would take care of it.  Not going to lie, I am in a texting mood now, so the bills that have come in since I have only told her through text.

Yes, it's easier.  But I have to admit that the real reason I am now texting her is that I don't want to hear her tell me that they're coming home.  They should be coming home by now.  And don't get me wrong.  When I say "should," I don't mean that it's the right thing to do, or it's preferable.  I mean that they've been gone over half a year, and they say they would be coming back, so logic would dictate they would mean what they say and be back.  Now, they usually summer here in Minnesota, and they didn't do that.  Mother later said they'd return in August, and obviously that's not the case.  They have said they want to come back to look at the mail that's accumulated, or to start working on a new roof, or figuring out what to do with the minivan, or to see that the trash is now being picked up.  But they're not here -- at least not yet.

Still, I have had this creeping fear that, as time marches forward, the inevitable end of me having the whole house to myself has to come.  Surely, they would be making a decision now that it's Labor Day ... even though, and I may be pointing this out to myself in order to give myself hope, generally this is the time of the year my parents leave Minnesota.  And hey, maybe they realized they just want to stay out there, and that there is no reason to come back since everything is hunky dory, and it is hunky dory here right now.  But I feel like I'm tied to a conveyor belt with my legs spread open with a laser beam ready to zap my genitals, like that scene in Goldfinger.  If/When they tell me, I have so much shit I need to do -- pack up all my things (and I am visually overwhelmed with all the packing I'll have to do ... my goodness it's a lot), take them to storage, and clean, clean, clean.  I don't have the time to do that, I don't have the energy to do that, and I frankly don't have the will to do that.  So I don't talk to Mother nowadays because being incommunicado with her lets me leave all my stuff out where I want.  And that is a ... don't want to say a fiction, but a situation I've created in order to make me feel good about myself.  As long as she doesn't tell me they're returning, I get to live how I feel.  So I don't talk to her because that way, she can't tell me anything.

You know, this is something I would talk to my psychiatrist about.  God, I could use someone to talk to about my anxiety right now.

Weird.  Needed to talk to my folks about some bills, but Mother, who is really attentive in calling back, didn't.  I texted her Wednesday night, but it wasn't until the day yesterday/Thursday that she replied, and she said the bills, for which we usually talk about, she will handle.

Honestly, I have tried avoiding talking to them, only because I fear the date they come home.  Not ready for that.  Still, I need to be sure they're alright, and not being in contact with them for more than a day after I said I need to speak to them sets me a bit on edge.  The text is fine, but it's something to monitor.

Waste The Day

I just wish I had the motivation right now to work on my stuff.  But other things get in the way.  Stuff like other chores.  For example, right after I got home (from a long day at work), I immediately (well, OK, I ate some nuts first) mowed the lawn, even though the weather has been so dry I was mowing over brown spots.  I thought I needed to mow if only because I hadn't done it in about a month.  I did that instead of, for example, going through my stuff.

I think I'm doing this because I think I have time.  I don't know if that's the case.  My parents may say they're coming home at a moment's notice.  It would be nice for me to have everything packed up and ready to go into storage, also at a moment's notice.  Shoot, at this point I would settle for immediately knowing which boxes I would put my stuff in, throw everything into those boxes, and then leave.  I would take that as a plan.  But I haven't gotten that far yet.  Instead, I'm mowing and eating and doomscrolling.

I work early tomorrow.  After work I want to get my hair cut because it's getting so long I have to wait an hour before it dries.  Maybe after I take a shower I can tackle my stuff.  Or, I'll take a nap.  I'll probably take a nap and waste yet another day that I could've used doing something productive.

Another Busy Week Ahead

There's an MNUFC soccer Match I desperately want to get out of (more on that tomorrow, if I remember), and I have reserved a ticket to see the latest Spider-Man on Thursday.  (About that: When faced with the deadline to purchase an advanced ticket for five bucks, I chose Thursday ... just because.  And either I didn't think about it at the time or I decided I couldn't do it, but I now realize that I should have reserved a seat for an IMAX showing.  They don't have an IMAX screening on Thursday.  They have one tonight/Monday night ... but it's at a time where I would have to stay pretty late at work to make it make sense for me to drive to the theater instead of home.  Wish there was an earlier time that would fit a time I think I will get out of work tonight/Monday night.)  That also opens up the chance for me to see Super Troopers 3 on Wednesday, when I get out of work early.

So that's three days where I'm doing something after work, and they come back-to-back-to-back.  At my advanced age, that's a lot.  I'm tired just thinking about it.  But as long as I can frolic free without my parents even vaguely being disapproving (let alone knowing), I'll do it!

Busy Week Ahead

So tonight/Tuesday night and Friday night there are MNUFC Matches.  I have my screening at work Thursday morning, which means I will work out and then fast Wednesday evening.  Saturday I work the Lynx Game and Sunday there's that big party I need to go to.  Plus I'm still waiting for my parents to tell me when they're coming home, so I have started to at least figure out how to haul away all my stuff back to the storage unit if I need to pick things up quickly.

But this leaves no time to just relax at home, and probably little time to do chores, such as washing dishes, washing clothes, and going through the aforementioned stuff.  So glad they're not coming home this week ... as far as I know.

So I'm eating spaghetti (seconds, but I think I'm in a phase where I don't like leftovers).  The only things I've accomplished are making spaghetti, fixing the sprinkler head (maybe I'll blog post about that), and doing this blog post.

I'm eating at a dinner table filled with my stuff -- letters, receipts, etc.  There's a bunch of my shit in the basement.  I have clothes I've organized into piles but haven't put away.  And even though they haven't given me a date (yet), Mother said they'd return in August, and it's August.

Maybe, just maybe, I should do something about my stuff.  Or, maybe I won't.

Back to eating my spaghetti, and to scrolling.  Hey, the Lynx won!

Ruined Showers; Times Before And At The Very Start Of Supergirl

So I still don't know when they're coming back.  That's good in the sense that I still have the house to myself and I still have the opportunity to go through my things (even though I probably won't).  The bad news is is that I was hoping they would come home to at least a semi-clean house, but that won't happen till they, well, come home.  In the meantime it's still hotter than hell outside so I have taken a shower in both the upstairs (Monday) and downstairs (last/Tuesday night) bathrooms, thus "ruining" their cleanliness.  They might be coming home to bathrooms as dirty as they were before ****e* came to clean it on Sunday.  And sure, she last came over in February, so everything needed a cleaning, but still.

---

So I also sated my OCD/principles and watched Supergirl again last/Tuesday night, and this time I was able to get to the theater in time to see it from the start.  I timed the beginning of the movie to the point of the movie where I came in last week -- four minutes.  I missed the first four minutes of the movie.  If only I had gotten my ass out off the toilet just four minutes earlier, I wouldn't've needed to subject myself to this again.  However, one thing is irking me.  I timed the preview time, i.e. the listed showtime to the time when Supergirl actually started.  Backdating four minutes, the preview time of the film last week was 20 or 25 minutes.  When I went last/Tuesday night, 25 minutes had passed from the listed showtime and, I swear, they were still in previews.  So does the preview time change from week to week?  I thought preview times shortened the longer a movie runs in theaters because fewer and fewer people pay for tickets to see it and therefore it doesn't make sense to show trailers of upcoming films for fewer and fewer eyeballs.  You mean to tell me that if I were running as late as I was last week to watch Supergirl this week, I would've made it to the start??  (Oh, by the way, last week I also watched Toy Story 5, and even though I was running 20-5 minutes late again, I got to my seat just as that film was about to begin.  To avoid getting bored by trailers, I will keep skirting preview times.)  

On the bright side, it wasn't a chore to see it a second time.  Knowing the general outline of what was going to happen next helped me understand the plot of the movie better.  Sure, it's not as if Supergirl is a deep film, but you know how confusing mass-market movies are these days.  And it wasn't the worst thing in the world to see.  I give it a, oh, B-/C+.

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. ...

Old Chicken Not As Good As New-ish Chicken

So yesterday/Monday I was invited to this house party that was happening later into the evening.  Normally I wouldn't go because of the last-minute notice ... and I usually haven't.  But it was at a place much more convenient to me, plus ****e was there, and it just so happened I texted her on Sunday.  Work was a bear, but I managed to get out in time so that I could go home, change, get money, and then get to the party in time to get my rocks off.

While waiting for ****e and *****y (who told me about the party) to double-team me, I sat in the cramped kitchen which was hosting this shindig with three-to-four other guys who have either gotten serviced or were waiting to be serviced by at least one of those two women.  There's always food at these stripper parties.  And even though food is the furthest thing I need when I go to these parties, there's nothing else to do there except eat.  Someone, probably one of the dancers, bought take-home chicken and fries, presumably from Cub Foods.  I ate it.  And even though it had been laying around of at least 90 minutes, it tasted good.

I planned to have Kentucky Fried Chicken for dinner last/Monday night.  Well, let me go back a bit ... before I even knew there was a party going on, I was planning on going to the Ty Segall concert at First Ave.  But I checked his recent playlist.  He doesn't seem to deviate from concert to concert, and the one song for which I would have gone to see him play (his awesome, stomping cover of Hot Chocolate's "Every 1's A Winner") he has not played at all in his tour, at least not yet.  I'm not a big-enough fan of Mr. Segall that I would go see him play songs I don't know, so I decided not to go.  Maybe I should've researched his tour set earlier so I could have made this decision earlier.

Anyway, because I decided not to go to the concert, I quickly pivoted to eating KFC after the party.  I recently signed up for the fast food restaurant's application, and because I'm a first-time signee, I got this deal where, for the first seven days I signed in, I could get my first order through their app for half off.  I had planned this after looking over the menu, so I knew that I was going to order a four-piece chicken meal, which came with a side (I settled on fries), a biscuit, and a Pepsi.  That would originally go for about $14.50 (!), so seeing as I was going to get it for half-off, I figure this would be the only time I would ever get it.

When my parents were here (ish), they would make me get KFC on Tuesdays.  They still have a deal where a bucket of eight pieces of chicken sells for ten bucks.  Those were always hot.  These weren't.  Still, I thought it would taste good, so I sat down and at them and ... they weren't.  I don't know why.  I don't think it's quality control, at least beyond the warmth.  But it wasn't as good as the leftover chicken I ate at the party.  That can't be right.  The only thing I can think of is that, besides having popcorn and a Cpari-Sun-like juicebox at work, given to us by the company, I was really hungry, and that leftover chicken hit the spot.  I ate all my KFC with little difficulty, but when I started, admittedly, I wasn't hungry.

Maybe I should've saved that Kentucky Fried Chicken order for another day.  Or maybe this KFC store had a bad run of chicken and if I had gone somewhere else that night I would've gotten better chicken.  Who knows?

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.

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.

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???

The Joys Of Buying A Robe

It's not as if I don't mind wrapping a bath towel around myself when I leave the bathroom after taking a shower.  And hell, right now I could gallivant around the house stark naked if I wanted.  Well, maybe not; I can't dry the curtains at the back door.  And that's when I thought about buying a robe.  And you know, it gets cold when I gallivant around the house stark naked.  Now, it's just a robe, and I'm not wearing anything underneath it.  But it would be enough for me to wear, and I could do things like do the laundry or make myself dinner while wearing it, and I wouldn't be either cold or embarrassed.

The problem is that the best robes are so expensive.  I rely on The Wirecutter for best products, and I was amazed that all the robes they recommend are at least close to a hundred bucks!  Really?  Are good robest that pricey?

I had been looking at the article in The Wirecutter for a few years now.  They update their list annually, so I kept looking just in case they found a budget pick.  Well, about a month ago I saw that listicle again and, miraculously, there was a sale going on with one of their robe picks.  That discount ran around 30%, and going from almost $100 to less than $70 was the final incentive for me to finally buy a robe.

And you know what?  I love it!  I can walk around the house now after I shower without worrying if any neighbor catches me naked.  It is still new, so the deep and plus hairs of the robe nestle and comfort me.  It keeps me warm as I put-put around the house.  Finally, it solves the reason I wanted a robe in the first place, a reason I let slip from my consciousness frequently: I hate sitting up on my bed waiting for my hair to dry before I could put my clothes on and gallivant around the house.  With a robe, I don't have to pull my shirts over my wet hair and thus making my chest and back sweaty all day.  Instead, I can walk around the house and spend my time doing productive things as my hair dries.  Plus, I don't have to pull a robe over my wet head.

The only dilemma is where to stash the robe once my parents come home.  I can't leave it out in the bathroom.  I think it'll have to be put in a closet, right next to my civilian clothes.  But I don't have to really, really think about this issue until I get a fixed date of when my folks are returning.

Don't Share A Bath Towel With Your Parents

So Thursday night I went down to the master bathroom to take a shower.  It had been several days since I washed myself (adhering to strict Chinese/Lunar New Year taboos), and I knew I had to use the one downstairs because I used the one upstairs the last time I showered.

But you add those two things up and you can see how I forget things.  Not, like turning on the faucet, but remembering what I have to bring downstairs from the upstairs (aka my) bathroom.  One of those was bringing in my own towel.  I only realized this, however, once I turned on the water in the shower.  Whoops, too late.

While I didn't bring down my own towel, there were two towels there.  They're my parents', and they left them there when they left for Vegas.  Great, I'll just use them ... except that I don't know whether they washed them before they began wintering out in Nevada.  Now, I use the master bathroom sink to brush my teeth, so when I dry my hands I dried them on those towels.  So sure, I maybe shouldn't complain about using dirty towels.  But there is a difference between using my folks' towels to dry my hands and using them to dry my body -- right?

Regardless, I had no choice.  So I picked one of the two towels and I dried myself with it.  I used it as if it were my own, but all the while I was imagining my parents coming out of the shower doing the same thing.  Ick.  Glad I bought a robe (and I should blog post about the robe I bought very soon); once I got all of the big wetness off my body, I dropped that towel and got into my robe.

So the towel is going to be washed by me soon.  The imagery of my parents using what I had just used ... well, I can't wash that out of my brain no matter how hard I try.