Lazy Saturday

I have nothing I need to do today.  Therefore, I will stay home and not spend any money.  Now, there are things I should do.  For example, go through my stuff.  But I did a lot already -- eat the rest of the hotdish I made (by the way, my verdict: I don't think I should add rice anymore and should substitute a vegetable instead, even if preparing it will elongate the prep time), kill off the Moet I bought and watered Father's plants.  Now, I'm watching sports (thank goodness for weekend sports all day) and probably going to take a nap because I'm feeling the champagne.  I'll go through my stuff later, and maybe do some laundry, too.

I think I am entitled to a nothing day like this, because I am human.

Review And Preview

Not only did yesterday/Wednesday start early because I was filling in for someone, but I had to stay late, almost by an hour.  Sure as hell didn't anticipate that, but there is a new type of form for which we have to type out every single line of information, something we don't usually do.  Also, the background to these forms is dark, so the scan comes out as almost black, which means we need to manually zoom in on the scan to see each line of info we need to type out.  It's a pain-in-the-ass, and that's why I stayed later than I would have had to.

Still, I got out early enough to move up the time for Gladiator II from 7:30 to 4:50.  Review: It was a sequel.  Wish the fight scenes were better, and there needed to be more of them.  Hey, did you know that when they began to shoot Gladiator, they didn't have a script?  They finally got one together, but they were kind of waiting around in the beginning.  I think the story and plot were great in that one.  Assuming they had a script from the start of Gladiator II, I thought it was long and plodding.  But, if you want gore, this is your movie.

Through a deal on T-Mobile Tuesdays, I ate at Popeye's, decided my blackened Chicken Tenders and Popcorn Shrimp weren't enough, and ate some Dot's Pretzels.  This was after I decided not to order a drink from Popeye's because it was getting expensive.  Hell, even without this drink I spent more than ten bucks.  I need to work on that.

Anyway, after that I talked to Mother about the mail, watered Father's plants and, around 10:30, listened to my body and went to bed.  Woke up around 5:30.  Stopped my streak on Zynga Poker, but it was worth it.

Now, with my day off, I have to wake up by 11 to take my car to the dealership because I ordered a new spare key fob.  I also asked them to check the level of oil in my car in case I overfilled it.  Like I said before, I have made myself a target to getting ripped off.  Or -- and I am now scaring myself again, I realize -- they'll warn about something that feels plausible enough to scare me for the next or two as I debate whether and when to bring my car back in for repairs.  For example, I was warned the last time I took my car in (to my local shop in July) that the brakes probably need to be replaced the next time I come in.  So, if the dealership says, "Hey, your brakes are just about gone," I'll think, "Man, are they lying to me ... or could they be telling me the truth?  I don't know what to think!  I don't know who to trust!"

And then I plan on watching Conclave at the local theater.  I want to drive the minivan to put it through its paces, but I don't know if it can hold up in the coldest weather we've had so far.  Or, maybe I should use the minivan precisely for that reason.

That's how yesterday was, and how today might be.

Damn Plants Are Multiplying

Oh -- beyond the smelly, blooming one, my conniving Father bought several more plants for me to water just days before he left for Vegas, the bastard.  I want to say last year there were only nine for me to worry about.  Now, there are 16.  The fuck?  And to purchase them before he left ... I don't think he was trying to fuck with me, but I don't think he cared about the extra annoyance he threw on my lap.

And the thing is is that I feel as though I am still over-watering the plants, including the new ones!  My Father told me, once again, that the equivalent of a full pot of water is needed to water everything everyday.  I still don't believe that, but yesterday/Wednesday morning I did it, and ... well, I didn't want to oversaturate the poor plants, but once I went over each plant twice, I still had water left over.  So, after about half an hour or so, I thought, what the hell, and I used the rest of the water.  That still seems like a lot, and he wants me to give that much water to all the plants, old and new, every day??

Day Off: Pluses And Minuses

I have the day off, so I can stay up as late as I want because I don't have to be up in the morning at all, and what do I do?  After seeing Bonhoeffer and eating at Burger King last night, I go to bed and fall asleep at 10:30.  Then I wake up at 3:30, eat breakfast, half-water the plants (I'll water the other half now) and fall back asleep around 7:30, only to wake up again at 10:30.

Thought about blog posting twice today, but that'll be hard to do since I'm doing this blog post for the PM.  I also wanted to start doing the laundry, but I don't know where the strainers are, and I don't have any to spare, so I might as well wait and buy those.  Finally, I scheduled a session with my shrink over the phone.  I wanted it to be in the afternoon after my afternoon nap, but since I had as decent a sleep I've gotten in weeks and slept again in the morning, don't know if I'll need to even have on.  Also, EPL's on SiriusXM, so I might listen to that, and depending on the Match, I might prefer to listen to it all the way through instead of talking to him.  You know, I'm talking myself into hoping we can do this session now and not during soccer.  Oh, well.

So this is not going as well as planned.  But hey, at least I don't have to go to work, right?  And by the way, a small squall came through, dropping flurries, and the wind is whipping outside, and it's 21 degrees but feeling like 4 below.  I don't plan on even opening the front door today, and that's the right decision!

Plants Stink

So I got home last night from the Timberwolves Loss -- T-Wolves suck right now, BTW -- and immediately the stench from Father's blooming plant or plants hit me.  It started the previous day, but it came out in full force when I got inside the house.  Whoa!  It was so pungent I started coughing.  I had to retreat into my room, which is as far away from the plants as you can get.  But if I ever had to step out onto the hallway -- and I had to several times because I suddenly got cottonmouth and was drinking everything in the kitchen that a human could -- dang, I could smell it.

Father is proud of his plants.  And this plant that blooms, uh, maybe once a year or less is a sign of its health.  Glad to see that vacation I took to Hawai'i for two weeks two years ago didn't kill it.  But ... golly, it smells.  I think it subsides after a week.  It'll be fantastic for Father to smell as he leaves for Las Vegas, but hopefully, that stink will die down shortly after I have the house all to myself.

Fun Times, And No Fun Times

I came home from the basement bar last/Friday night sated, drink- and especially food-wise.  But I was so happy, and buzzy, that I was on one, and so I went to Taco Bell to eat 1,000 more calories.  I could have stayed home and make a sandwich from the fridge and both saved money and probably ate less.  My problem in a nutshell, huh?

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I had plans on watching the EPL this/Saturday morning.  But the place in downtown Minneapolis I wanted to go to is also showing Six Nations Rugby, and I can't get into that, at least not right now.  There's another bar just down Nicollet that has recently re-opened (more like resurrected itself over the past year after the pandemic) to regular hours, but it's an Arsenal bar and Arsenal is playing at 9 a.m., and I kind of want to be alone.  I could have gone to the bar in St. Paul, which was the one I went to last Saturday, but I don't want to go back there two Saturdays in a row, plus I went there last Saturday because I was going to go in to work after EPL and it was relatively close by.  We apparently got caught up from work delayed by last week's storm in the South around Wednesday, I think, so there's no overtime offered nor needed today, and so I'll just avoid the whole area today.

And yet, because of my inebriation, I went to bed relatively early and woke up a bit past 8:30.  If I really, really wanted to go watch EPL, I think I could have gotten dressed quickly and drove like a bat out of hell to a bar in time.  Maybe.  (Actually, I woke up a bit before 8:30 because I laid in bed for a good bit.)  See, if I decide not to go out to watch soccer, I want my body not to wake up until it's way too late to have the opportunity to go out to watch soccer.  By waking up around 8:30, I'm torn between bolting out of bed and peeling away to a bar or agonizing about letting a fun time pass me by.

Oh, well.  I have chores and errands -- this blog, watering Father's plants, getting the car washed, getting a shave, getting tested, visiting Grandmother's friend, paying for my storage unit, buying baking soda and mini-Pepsis, maybe shoveling and salting the driveway and back deck, and ... well, other stuff.  I don't know if I'll have time to do it all.  I guess I should figure that if I went to watch soccer, I wouldn't have been able to do some or even all of the things I just listed, and should do.

And come to think of it, it's about time I do those things.

So It Turns Out Everything's Fine

It didn't start off well: I think the bus driver stopped one stop too late, so I had to backtrack to my street.  (The last time I used the bus, which was when I dropped off my car for a thudding sound that turned out to be missing and loose lug nuts, I requested one stop too soon and had to walk more than I should have.  Goldilocks will get this right.)  And that stop has not been shoveled at all; I stepped into a snowback at least up to the top of my Doc Martens.  Ick.  Welcome back to Minnesota, I guess (even though it has been hanging above freezing ever since I touched down yesterday/Wednesday).

Some parts of my street were slushy, but others were clear, so whenever there wasn't traffic (and afternoon rush was petering out when I started walking up around 6) I walked on the street.  I finally came upon my house, and yes, there was snow.  And the snow at the end of the driveway has had two weeks of thawing and freezing to cake and ice over and turn into an unmovable abomination -- even though the melting has put the snow on my driveway at above three inches; I think a pair of eight-inch snowstorms came while I was in Hawai'i.

So I high-step it up the driveway and up to my front door.  I turn the key, take a deep breath ... and hear the alarm.  OK, so I set the alarm and the alarm still works.  I then hear the central heat on; I go upstairs to check the thermostat and, yes indeed, I in fact did not turn the heat off.  Phew!

Then went downstairs and checked the boiler room for water leaks -- none, thank Buddha.  I turned on the water heater to "HOT" again and opened up what I think is the water main.  Finally, I went to the master bathroom to see if there were any signs of freezing pipes, and then to see if water is flowing through the sink and the shower.  I think the water pipes in the master bathroom are most vulnerable to freezing shut because I think they're closer to the exterior.  I not only kept the bathroom door open while I was gone but the shower door, too.  So I turned on both the faucet and the shower and, after gurgling up the air because the main water was shut off, it flowed naturally and unfrozen.

Oh, and the plants?  The ones with flowers are drooping, but other than that, I can't really see how affected they were going without water for two weeks.  I really, really believed that all the plants would be dead, the leaves a sickly brown and leaves just everywhere on the floor.  There's a chance I could revive them with water I will give them in the morning.

And I eventually plowed the driveway, too!  The snowblower started off fine; the reason it conked off last time, I guess, was only because it ran out of gas.  The end-of-driveway snow was extremely hard to plow, but after working at it, I did.  I needed to move the cars around to clear the whole driveway, and both cars started up just fine; helps that it was above 32 degrees.

The only downside is that I fell while pulling the snowblower up the driveway.  May have cranked my neck.  I'm drinking knockoff NyQuil now to finish off this cough I still have, once and for all, but I could use a pain reliever right now, sheesh. ...

I have now convinced myself that I shut off the heating to my house before I left.  I changed air filters and cleaned out the contraption the night before leaving, even though I planned on doing that well beforehand.  Of course, after re-installing everything, the thing I would have to do next is go back up and turn the thermostat back on.  I think I did that ... but knowing me, I didn't.  Maybe not hearing the heat turn on all night would have been a sign something's wrong, but I cranked up my own heater, so maybe I wouldn't have noticed.  Besides, I was distracted with finishing packing, and shutting off the main, and turning down the water heater.

I need to strenuously ask my uncle to drop by the house.  Before it was to make sure there's no water leak in the basement and possibly to water the plants.  Now, I should ask him to check if the thermostat is set to Auto.  Because while it's cold now, highs will creep closer to 0 in the next week or so.  If I stupidly shut off the heat, I don't think it's too late (crosses fingers) to turn it back on.  But if I wait, or if my uncle waits ... my God, then I'll be homeless.

You Know What? I'm Not Looking Forward To This Vacation

Yeah, I said it.  It's a vacation to Hawai'i.  How can anybody be so upset that they're going to Hawai'i?  Well, I'm a weirdo, so I'm that upset person.

First of all, and I wonder if I just blog posted about this, I got my credit card statement in the mail the other day, and hoo boy, there's a non-zero chance that I will max out my credit card by the time I come home from this vacation.  I didn't think I spent that much money, but I did, and on vacations all you do is spend even more money.  Fuck me.

Second of all, I am leaving the house on its own for two weeks, in the winter.  I have read up on making sure the thermostat is kept on but not too high (I think 62 degrees is just about right) and to open all cabinet doors to help ensure the pipes don't freeze.  But it's going to be by itself for two whole weeks, and I have no idea what's going to happen at this house while I'm gone.  The pipes could still freeze.  Maybe the alarm will go off an hour after I leave for the airport and it'll be ringing the whole goddamn time I'm gone.  There could be a leak and the basement cold flood for two entire weeks.  And it's possible someone breaks into the house and steals everything.  Who knows?  Nobody's gonna be here to make sure everything's fine.  I hate that, because I am terrified of what condition the house is going to be in when I come back.

Third of all, and this is a corollary to the second of all, I am scared as hell for Father's plants.  I still have no idea how and how frequently I need to water his plants, but I'm pretty sure they won't survive two weeks without water.  Last night I asked my folks if anybody is going to drop in on the house and make sure it's standing while I'm gone.  No, they said, that's not the plan.  I have half a mind to walk over to my sister's (maybe ex-; it's complicated) best friend's house mere yards away from us, give her the key to the house, and ask her and her girl to come in and water the plants ... and make sure no one's squatting in my bedroom.  I have relatives who live close and I'm fairly sure that not only do my parents not want them to check on the house, they don't want me telling them I'm going on vacation.  So these plants, these things My Fucking Father has yelled at me often enough over the years to make me believe he cares more about them than he ever did about me, are just gonna die because my sister's graduating.  And there's nothing anyone is going to do about it.

Finally, and this is probably worse than anything, I am spending two solid weeks with my family.  My sister and brother-in-law, they're cool, but I think I'll be living with them, and they keep saying their place is really small.  The living arrangements have already been made, and I think that I and my folks will be staying with them, and my sis and bro-in-law keep saying it'll be an extremely tight fit.  That will only exacerbate any negative feelings that might bubble up between us as we are lashed together for two entire weeks.  Yeah, it's a vacation, but another way of looking at it is we're being forced to have fun on multiple occasions every day for (say it with me now) two whole fucking weeks.  This damned family has argued on long vacations before and road trips before; how will this be any way different besides the possibility we'll be yelling at each other in flip-flops on Waikiki Beach?

Seriously, the family dynamics are toxic enough that a spark might explode this powder keg of a family.  My sister and brother-in-law remain the most normal segment of the family, but they're under the stress of hosting six other people and organizing events for two whole weeks.  Mother and Father are their usual fucked-up selves, and they may be even more fucked-up than usual because they're on vacation and will use their status as the elders to get what they want, no matter how expensive or problematic their ask may be.  And shit, there's my brother, sister-in-law and niece.  I am convinced that all they do is fight with each other.  I can't imagine it getting any better when they're stuck together with each other and the rest of us goblins for two solid motherfucking weeks.

Now, consider that, and then consider that I don't like most of these people and will be set off based on  one nasty comment, and then you'll possibly understand how afraid I am that this "vacation" will go sideways.  By that I mean that if one of my parents ask if I have a girlfriend yet, I might throw my drink in their faces.  And if My Asshole Brother gives me the silent treatment when I need to ask him something, I might take a knife and slash him across the face to let him know I won't be ignored.  I am dead serious that there is a non-zero chance that one member of this family doesn't survive the vacation.  By Day 12 of this traveling disaster I could kill someone, or someone could kill me.  But I'm not going to say it can't happen.

All this bullshit is what I have to look forward to on vacation.  Now, I'm sure that if I was planning this vacation -- if I wanted to go to Hawai'i -- I would feel different about all this.  Maybe my bad thoughts and violent ideations over this vacay revolves around my umbrage that someone else planned this trip and not me -- that, moreover, I am being summoned at the behest of another, even if it is my sweet and smart sister, even if it is to Hawai'i.  I don't like to be told what to do, even if it is going on a vacation to somewhere warm in the middle of winter.

So this is what I have to look forward to.  Oh, and I need to buy swim trunks.  Double oh, and I have to prepare for a family photo shoot on the beach.  I have no idea why we need to hire Glamour Shots to document this graduation, but we are.  And each family segment will get a mini-photo shoot, which means there's my sis and bro-in-law, my parents, my bro and sis-in-law and niece ... and me.  Just me?  Really?  And I still have to pose for this when I don't have anybody to take a photograph with?  Isn't that ... pathetic?  Do I have to treat this like my senior photoshoot, because I never did a senior photoshoot.  And what is taking pictures of me going to entail?  Am I going to, like, pose next to a rack of surfboards or something?  Jesus fucking Christ, this is going to be awkward as fuck. ...

A Dying Money Tree, An Apt Metaphor

Father's plants as a whole are doing, uh, OK.  I think three of them have drying leaves, but the rest are fine.  Well, except this tall one called a money tree.  I know it's a money tree because, thankfully, there is that paper descriptor that is planted in the pot and it says, "Money tree."

I didn't notice those descriptors until, oh, about a month ago.  In the back, thank Buddha, there are watering instructions.  That kind of helps when you're looking at a money tree that is helplessly wilting in front of your eyes.  It says to water every other day.  How much, who knows.  But I now know that I am supposed to water every other day.  Will it help?  Who can say?  But if it doesn't work, I can at least tell Father I followed the instructions.

(Aside: Father believes in luck.  Money trees are supposed to bring you luck.  That this money tree is dying and teetering to one side like the Leaning Tower of Pisa is serving as a metaphor that I am not lucky.  And right now, I'm not.)

Thank God, then, for a moisture meter.  I was Googling about how to water a money tree (even after I saw the instructions) when I saw that there was such a contraption.  A machine that can tell you how much water is in a pot?  Cool!  Now, what I would do with that information is something I don't quite know, but too often I have wondered if I am underwatering or overwatering, and this moisture meter will provide a big chunk of information toward answering that.

Now, to actually use it.  I got it late last week and haven't taken it out of its package yet.  Then, once I learn how to use it, I have to learn how to use the information I glean from the meter.  And then, maybe then, I'll know how much and how often to water these things so they don't bleepin' die on me.

Plant Update

I have made the decision -- not necessarily come to the conclusion -- that I have been overwatering Father's plants.  Because of that, I have foregone watering them yesterday, and I might do it again today.

Scares the hell out of me for three reasons.  One, I might be wrong.  Two, Father told me to water them every day, so it doesn't feel right that I'm not following his order.  And three, I know for a fact (at least according to the Internet) that I need to do more to help overwatered plants than just stop watering, but I don't have the energy to do that.

The plants are screwed.