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.

Expenses Without Receipt

Starting from Friday, August 28:

• We go back to Thursday, August 27, the first day of the State Fair.  Didn't have as much money as I wanted, so I relied on my credit card for the Blue Barn Sweet Squeakers (which is fast becoming an annual staple), the Frozen Blue beer, Swedish coffee, and Cherry Jumbo Limeade Float from, uh, that place (I should commit the shop's name to memory; I can see getting this year after year, too).  But I shelled out cash for the Gizmo (first time ever I've eaten at this place), the corn, and the Peachey's Amish donut.  With a tip for the Gizmo the total is: $26.
• On Tuesday the 25th I went to Caribou before work partly so I could get cash.  A medium mocha (just a mocha, not one of their signature mochas), minus trivia and plus tip, gets to: $7.25.
• That evening I had to go to our alumni Game-watching place to make sure it was OK for us to watch our Game, which is that Saturday, there.  We could.  With tip I spent: $37.
• All the way back to Saturday, August 15, where I went to Porchfest at the Wedge neighborhood.  Wish I could have spent some more time down there, walking through the streets and catching bands playing.  I tipped the bands, and I also got a cup of lemonade from a family selling it.  Total amount I spent for Porchfest: $5.
• Monday, August 3: ******a, oh, ******a: $150.
• We hurtle back to Tuesday, July 28, where I had to see Supergirl a second time because I missed the very start of it the first time.  Ticket, popcorn, pop, minus my $5 discount because I used points (I got food with a movie for the first time in a long time, and knowing how much it regularly costs, I won't be buying food again for a while) comes out to: $17.30.
• Sunday, July 26 ... this is the day I wanted to drive to Iowa, but I had to wait for ****e* to get here, and I finally just left because her lazy but nice ass couldn't get out of her house when she promised she would.  Not mad, just disappointed.  I got to The Day The Music Died Memorial, which is out on a private cornfield, in the early evening.  Wish I had went when it wasn't blisteringly humid, but you can't predict the weather.  Still, it was eerie and moving, and I'm glad I got to pay my respects.  And I got to pay it alone; I got to the parking lot, which is across the gravel street from the memorial site, as another person was leaving, and no one came after me.  There was an RV of someone who was tending to the gravel parking lot I parked at.  I got the feeling she and her family appointed themselves as caretakers of the memorial and the parking lot.  They had little trinkets to sell, and they asked for donations.  I appreciated that someone is dedicating themselves to keeping up the area, so I donated: $5.
• On Saturday the 25th I went out to Stillwater and got Nelson's Ice Cream.  This place is famous for heaping scoop upon scoop upon scoop of ice cream.  Their smalls are large.  I appreciate that in these days of paying more and getting less, but this was ridiculous.  With tip: $8.
• I wanted to get ice cream after I saw *****y, but her hot but finicky ass made me cum see her after ice cream.  And then she made me cum: $150.
• Thursday, July 23: I don't know if the date is right.  But I have this as the day I went to Nelson's -- not the ice cream shop in Stillwater but the deli place close to home.  Got a Hero, a medium chicken wild rice soup, and a can of RC Cola.  With tip the total was: $17.32.
• Wednesday the 22nd -- had to buy lottery tickets, both lotteries.  Total: $14.
• I then got gasoline.  Paid cash for it: $32.
• To Sunday the 19th, where I went to Grandpa Joe's for a Whistler pop.  Minus the bottle deposit I paid: $1.62.
• I then went to the Black Hart to watch some World Cup soccer.  Can of cider plus tip: $7.
• That night I went to a local theater to watch The Odyssey.  This is an historic one-screen place (although it's owned by a company that has a few historic one-screen places) that showed the film in 70mm.  This is a theater where the person running the screening is an aficionado, and he showed how better the resolution a flick is in 70mm by bringing out the reel in which the film is threaded.  I like the presentation.  I love the movie, too; it's fantastic, and the probable Oscar favorite for Best Film.  Small popcorn, small pop, and tips for concessions and the organist (I used my credit card for the ticket): $14.
• Finally, on Wednesday, July 15, I took that day and the following day off for World Cup Semifinals -- and, on this day, to take my car in for maintenance.  After the oil change and tire rotation, I took my vehicle to the car wash.  Paid for the wash, but the tip was in cash: $5.
• Because there was nothing seriously wrong with the car, I had time to go to Flameburger to take in breakfast.  Great to eat there; will return next year.  Got their meal of half an egg, hash browns and toast, and with a small apple juice and tip it cost me: $15.
• Later that afternoon I went to Brit's Pub to see Spain handcuff France, 2-0.  There went my World Cup pick.  With tip: $54.

I keep saying this because it remains true: I have to do these EWRs more often.

Good through August 28.

Keep having things I need to do, yet I still don't do them.  Then they pile up to the point where I have to do something, but then I'm so tired at night that I have to resort to masturbation in order to catch a second wind to do one of the things, namely send out an e-mail.  Shouldn't have to be this way, but by doing that just now, I can finally get around to reconciling my monthly expense list for July ... tonight/Wednesday night.  Well, maybe I'll do it tomorrow/Thursday night ... or Friday night.  Ugh, I'm procrastinating.

Great that I got a good night's sleep.  And in a vacuum, I'm not against going to bed at 10:30 and waking up at 6.  But when the only thing you have to do is a party at 2, and the thing you want to do is fixing sprinkler heads and it might have rained overnight, you're not wanting to do anything, even if I have as much energy as I'll ever have.

Well, I do have to water the plants.  And wash some dishes, like I wanted to last night.  And, you know, if it rained overnight, I won't have to really fix the sprinklers, do I?

All of a sudden, whoo! I'm tired.  I'll ... think about doing something and then either do it or not do it.

I still need to reconcile the money I spent for May.  I want to do it before the next month is out, so that means I have today/Tuesday to finish it all.  But I just started by compiling all the EWRs for the month in my day planner and my hand is tired.  And I still have to add everything up and write down why I spent how much I spent.  And I have to work early today/Tuesday.

Again, I want to do this all before the day turns.  Wish me luck.

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???

An Easy Day Turned Into A Busy Night

I did one of the main chores I wanted to do on my birthday: Rake the roof.  I did that after I took a hard nap, so I was energized going into the evening, where I wanted to watch the World Baseball Classic title Game (won by Venezuela, 3-2 over the Americans) while working on my bracket.

There was one other thing I wanted to do: Clear the back deck of the half-foot of snow.  I was going to do it during the WBC, but I wanted to wait until it stopped flurrying.  Then, I got caught up on the close Game, plus I was really crunching the data on the bracket.  Then the Game got really interesting, so I decided I would shovel after the Game was over.

But gosh darnit, right after the trophy ceremony, my sister called.  And of course I had to talk to her for an hour about stuff.  Just then I remembered I had to do something else: Send out an important e-mail that had to be sent today/Wednesday or else my alumni association was going to get pissed.  That's when I had to end my phone call with my sis.  But then, instead of immediately going out to shovel, I went back to number-crunching for my bracket.  I finally got out to shovel around midnight.

Thankfully, sending out the e-mail was easy.  But I still need to think about my bracket, and I finally got around to blog posting this.  And I am tired, and I should go.  Peace.

I'll Get To The Stuff On My Drawer ... Tomorrow

So whenever I get mail, I don't look at it right away.  Don't care.  I throw it either on a box of alumni-related stuff that was sent to me, which is at a perfect height and distance from my bed so that I feel that, if I want to, I can just reach over and grab it, or on the drawer next to my bed.

It's gotten bigger over the, oh, weeks or months since I last combed through it.  It has gotten to the point where I need to actually look through the mail, and I have picked at it.  I even grabbed a couple envelopes last/Sunday night.  But over the past couple weeks or so I imagined that I would have the time, just one night, to finally go through it all.  But I look at that pile, see that it's, oh, 1 in the morning, and I think to myself, "Nah, I'll do it another time."  As I did just now.

Hey, man, it's a busy week.  I'm even taking time off from work to do stuff I need to do.  I am that busy.

Goodbye, Car

Over the weekend, Father and I finally untarped my old car.  It looks as good/bad as it did when we stored it, which was, at least according to the tabs, before the winter of 2021-2.  But three of the four tires are severely deflated and the front passenger side is completely deflated.  Plus, the moonroof is cracked and enough, uh, stuff penetrated the cracks that there is mold or mildew in it.  It may run, for all I know, but the tires probably need to be changed and the moonroof is a disaster, so I don't think it's wise for us to put money into spiffing it up.  Yeah, it's time to say goodbye to the car.

---

I remember seeing it for the first time.  It was evening, I was hanging out or sleeping in or doing homework or just moping about my senior year in high school when my parents told me to come out.  I, at the top of the stairs, saw Mother, at the bottom of the stairs, jangle a key in front of her.  It was the car, and they got it for me.  And I remember being visibly frustrated.  I was a couple years removed from finally getting my driver's license on the third try, and the second time I got rejected by this truly deplorable bitch of a driving tester traumatized me.  This new car would be an upgrade over the car I had been using around that time, a Jeep that first had vapor lock issues and then overheated.  I should have been overjoyed that I actually got a fucking car that fucking worked, but I think my thinking at the time was that I was over driving as a concept.  It was so much work to worry about a car, and I realized there was pain even when owning a car that did work -- gasoline, maintenance, worries about repairs, let alone insurance.  I had taken a bus to school all my life, and if I wanted to do something fun, I could either walk there or hop a ride on one of my friends' cars.  No, driving a new car was too much adulting for me, and I gave the impression that they shouldn't have bought one for me.

Well, I did need to drive a car, if only for getting to the U. for classes.  And then the damndest thing happened: Instead of junking the Jeep and letting me drive the new car, they stored the new car and made me drive the Jeep several more years.  In fact, if I recall correctly, I want to say it took about nine or ten years before Father finally relented and let me drive the car as my main car.  Up until his decision to stash it, I had one summer to drive it all over the place.  And I remember driving it a lot very, very early in my journey with it, albeit inadvertently.  I was going to go to my friend's graduation party at his mom's house.  He drew up a map on how to get there from our high school, but it was wrong and I got lost.  And it took me at least an hour and stopping into one or maybe even two gas stations (remember that we didn't have the Internet, let along a map app, at the time) to finally fucking get to the party.  I expressly remember reading the part of the owner's manual where it said to drive the car gently for the first 1,000 miles.  I swear I drove about 100 of it just trying to find this goddamn party.

So after I was finally able to drive it, I, well, drove it.  Everywhere.  It was a stylish low-luxury car.  It was great.  I hate not remembering all the good times I drove it because when the car drives well, it drives unremarkably.  No, I remember when it started breaking down.  My first repair was for a ball bearing in the passenger-side rear tire; the car was making a noise that wasn't going away.  The transmission died on me as I drove to my overnight temp job in downtown Minneapolis; Father had to step in and found someone in the neighborhood to finally, after maybe a month out of service, fix the transmission for almost two grand, oy.  In the winter, when I drove it to the dealership for maintenance, I took the off-ramp curve way too quickly.  There was slight damage to the car, but the moonroof cracked to where it is today.

All in all, the make, model and year of the car is a good one, I think, and I believe I got what I could out of it, maybe even moreso.  But, maybe because it was stored too long or because of those 100 miles getting to the fucking grad party or maybe just general wear-and-tear, the problems started to pile up -- the oil level light wouldn't turn off; had to re-do the wiring a couple times, 18 months apart; it started leaking oil bad; the passenger-side rear power window broke, and I had to tape it closed until I could get it fixed; the sway bar on the passenger side broke so I heard a loud "clang" every time I steered.  One time I drove over a railroad track and the goddamn hood flipped open.  The fuckin' thing rolled up like a tuna can.  (Come to think of it, I think the hood is totally fixed.  Didn't see any misalignment at all as I checked it out over the weekend.)

Finally, when I was driving to my test scoring job (I may have blogged posted about this a long time ago), the car started to overheat.  I had to leave for the day to go to this shop I trusted out in Carver County (close by where a stripper who gave me a HJ lived), who said it would be fine.  These were the days where I had a second test scoring job at night; the fucking car overheated on my way home from that job.  I spent two hours turning my car on and off to see if the thermostat would be low enough for me to limp it home before AAA finally got around to me and towed it to the mechanic close to me.

The culprit: The gasket blew.  I thought that when it comes to major engine repairs like that, that's when it was no longer worth it to fix the car.  The mechanic said exactly that when he told me in his voicemail what the problem was.  But Father got it home and, weeks later (I don't remember what car I was using in the meantime), he got it fixed.  And really, the car was driving fine.  You had to be careful and the radio was doing this thing where it get really loud and then really quiet and then really loud.  Didn't help that the radio button was busted.  You couldn't even push it to turn it off or on, it just did that itself.  But, it was drivable.  And then Father made the decision, at least several years after he got the gasket fixed and probably near the tail end of the pandemic where people could finally go out and travel again, to stash the old car, put the tarp and the cinder blocks on it, and, well, forget it.  And forget it we did.

---

I got into the car for the first time in years Saturday, but it was to clean it out.  I stepped back in it yesterday/Sunday to reminisce, to remember, and to say goodbye.  I can't remember them, but there were so many good times driving that car, and it was, for a long time, a trusted, capable, and even stylish soldier.  I made an effort to open and sit in the four big seats of the sedan, if only for a minute.  I looked at the owner's manual one more time, then realized that, after all these years, there are two features on the car that I did not use at all: The driver's seat lumbar support bar and the bag chute that comes out from the toddler seat in the middle of the backseat and has the shape of a long piece of wood.  It is used to store long objects without messing up the interior of the car.  Well, we never had to carry big long things in the sedan.  And even though I have a bad back now, I didn't back then, so I didn't have the need to shape my back to its proper driving posture.  Still, I cranked the bar a few times, just to feel it in my back.  Can't believe it's the first time I ever used it, ironically the last week (or so) it'll be in the family's possession.

Yes, it's a car.  But it's my car.  And I used it for a formative period in my life.  Moreover, I saw it "born," and now I'm going to see it "die" as it gets towed and probably stripped for parts.  It's a hell of a thing to witness the entire life cycle of something, even something inanimate like a car.

This is the logical thing to do.  Yet, I know I should be sad about this.  But I'm not crying.

I'm still trying to figure out how best to donate the car.  That might give me a good reason to procrastinate.  But hell, it's best to let go of the car.  And yet ... I can't.

Goodbye, car.

We're Finally Saying Goodbye To My Old Car (Maybe)

So I got home from work late, so I was eating by myself.  My parents got home from their post-dinner walk, and Father came up to me about a commercial he saw from a non-profit that takes cars (could be Kars 4 Kids, but you know what I mean).  He thinks it's time to say goodbye to my old car.  And I agree with him.

It'll take some time to process this.  Thinking about all the good times I had with it makes me tear up one way, and then thinking about all the stress and pain (and money) to fix it in its last years makes me tear up in another way.  I am getting sentimental about my old car now, but I have to admit I go days without thinking about it, and when I do it's usually thinking about how it is right now, underneath torn tarps and cinder blocks, with lord knows what is crawling inside of it.  It's a 30+-year-old car now.  I think it was fine to drive when we stashed it, but it certainly isn't in the (two, three ... seven?) years since, and it's so old now it doesn't have any safety features that would keep us from danger on the road.

I told him I would do research and get back to him.  There are several non-profits beyond the one he saw on TV that probably take old cars like ours.  But I might procrastinate because I can't quite say goodbye to it, even though we're not going to do anything with it.

Feeling Sorry For Myself

Now that the reality of them coming home and ruining the life I have here in my house is settling in, I just spent the past several hours feeling sorry for myself.  Well, I decided I needed to see my ATF, ******a, at My Favorite Stripclub (and let's face it, it's the only stripclub I go to nowadays) before my folks return.  I could have started cleaning up around here, and I just did clean the dishes.  But I have just more than 72 hours before they come home -- what can I really do to tidy up the place?  Nothing.  So I don't do anything, or at least nothing much.

This is where my procrastination over bringing out My Stuff is a good thing.  I should've taken some things out of storage so I could go through them.  But work has been such a bear, and I've been going to soccer Matches every Saturday (at least it seems like), that I never got around to it.  And now that they're coming back, I don't have to frantically put everything back together and haul all that crap to my storage unit.  That is one big thing I don't have to worry about.

And everything else, in my opinion, is out of my control.  I was blindsided, so what can I do?  That's how I justify not dusting or wiping.  I might clean the toilets -- might.  Everything else, hey, I don't have time for.  Maybe if I had three more months like I thought I did!!

My Procrastination Got Me Into Bad Luck (Again) ...

... and it has to do with trimming my nails.  I was going to do it around 10:20, after the weather report, but I stuck around listening to Overtime of Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Final on satellite radio, that got over around 11, I went to the bathroom to take a shower but scrolled through my phone.

I take long showers, but sometimes I'm amazed at how long they are.  I don't feel as though they are long because at some point it just becomes boring, you know?  And yet I went out to the bedroom to check the time: It was 11:26, just before Garbage was going to be on Kimmel, and I wanted to see that.  I'm glad I caught the band's performance, but I didn't think I was doomscrolling and in the shower that long ... and then I remembered that I say that to myself a lot.

And then I still have to trim my nails.  I need to do that all before midnight because you should be cutting them on Wednesdays because it's bad luck.  But I was sticking around to see the monologue on After Midnight.  I thought I still had time to cut my nails, but like with showering, I consistently underestimate the time I take to do them.  I thought I had time to do my nails, hands and feet, before midnight.  But I don't know.  See, I got done with my toenails, went to the bedroom and started filing while looking at the commercials.  I then realized I should take a look at my phone to see if I made it before the midnight deadline, and it said 12:02.  Shit.  I regret that I didn't immediately look at my phone once I made it to my bedroom.  Actually, I should've brought my cellphone with me to the bathroom to check the time as I was trimming my nails.  Now, I'm trying to backdate how much ad time I saw once I got into the bathroom, then thinking how many seconds I took in the bathroom between finishing my nail cutting and getting to my bedroom, and even though I don't really know, I think I crossed midnight and I was still cutting them, goddammit.

Now, I'll be damned with bad luck, and all because I couldn't get my ass going in time.  Hate myself right now.

Maybe I Should Get Serious About My Doing Taxes

So it was last week when I started my taxes.  No, I don't think I should have procrastinated like I did.  But, I have my reasons.  Work is kicking my ass (I stayed an extra two hours last/Friday night -- let's see if my boss is OK with that -- and after dinner I went to bed from a bit past 7 until just before 12:30) and, yes, there is a sameness to my sources of income from year to year that I think I have much of it down, which allows me to procrastinate.

Of course, with procrastination, and me being, well, me, that is not necessarily wise.  I have fucked up my taxes before, especially with that mistake which I am still too ashamed to bring up now.  I'm also lulled into thinking that since I have to fill the same forms and schedules year after year, I know which lines I need to automatically plug in because I think they're the same every year.  That would be the case if I actually remembered which forms and schedules and lines I have to fill in every year.  But like most things, if I don't do them on a ... well, if I'm being honest, a daily basis, I will forget.  And who even wants to remember tax season?  That made me write down a list of schedules and forms I need to print out every year.  And even then, I don't remember which lines I have to fill in on each schedule and form.  I keep the rough drafts of every tax form I figured out my taxes on for years now.  It would make sense for me to, say, reference what I did last year in order to remember how to do it this year.  I'm sure the copies of last year's forms and schedules are in my storage unit.  And with basically the weekend for which to do it, I don't think I want to go out there just to rummage through all my stuff to find it.

So no, maybe I'm winging it, and maybe that's not a good idea.  On top of that, my 1099 from my stock portfolio added a new line item I apparently got money from.  It has taken me this past week to figure out where to report it and what I need to do with it once I find the line for it.  That necessitated a brand new form, which initially shocked the shit out of me.

So with the new form and my brain doing a self-wipe on how I did my taxes last year, I guess I have taken a nonchalant attitude to my taxes when I shouldn't be.  But, I spent a couple long nights over the past week (after I took evening naps) to power through, and I had the time to go over my work.  I'm glad I did, because I have found mistakes.  Problem is that I'm scared that I haven't done my due diligence to make sure I haven't made more mistakes.

Tuesday is Tax Day.  I have a bad memory of standing in line for a couple hours at the post office just to mail my forms, so from that point on I have given myself a deadline of doing it the weekend before.  However, like I said, I slept for five hours last/Friday night.  That would have been time I could have spent giving my taxes another once-over, but alas.  I am going to at least try and do my final tax drafts at the library this/Saturday afternoon, then go to the post office at the airport tomorrow/Sunday afternoon to officially file.  (By the way, I still don't trust the government, and I especially don't trust this shitty and probably illegally-installed government, so I will not file electronically.)  Is that enough time to ensure I've done my taxes correctly?  Have no clue.  But as I lie on my bed to blog post this, I have no desire to work on them now.

My taxes are going to get more complicated starting next year, so I have thought that I should give up doing these myself.  At the very least I thought about using tax software, but from what I have seen, my situation is too complicated for any of the free ones out there, so that gives me pause.  Maybe I need to go to a preparer, but the first thing I gravitated to when I searched for it are local preparers who have been disciplined.  Shit.  Maybe it's still worth it going out on my own, even if it costs me money.

Too Much In Two Ways

Eating Mother's food is a double-edged sword.  Had egg rolls last night for dinner.  Damn, it's fantastic.  There might be one or two other things she makes that are better, but when I was devouring the egg rolls, it was the best damn thing she ever made.

However, I'm feeling the aftereffects of eating so much right now.  When I eat a lot of certain foods, I get thirsty as hell, and I am thirsty as hell, even as I type this.  I'm almost done with my Coke, but I'm not desperate enough to drink it all.  Had some lemonade that I'm almost finished with, too.  Drank all of the mocha I bought in the morning to bring into work, but let's face it, mochas aren't "quenching."  And while I need to drink more water, dammit, the water ain't cutting it.  I might need to buy a Big Gulp tomorrow if I'm still thirsty.

Oh yeah, there's also getting fat as hell.  That is one reason I kind of threw my parents a curveball late last night and told them I'm not eating dinner tonight.  If I do eat after work, I get to control what I eat, and I hope to Buddha I am smart enough to not buy something big.  Then again, I still might buy a huge bottle of pop.  And I might also feel as though I deserve to eat big if work is a bear today.  See, that's another reason I told my folks (well, just Mother, and I hope she told Father) that I'm not eating tonight.  The work that was supposed to come in from down South didn't.  There were hellacious storms (including nighttime tornadoes, yikes) that cancelled all flights from there.  I still stayed a half-hour over because there is just so much darn work in The Third Department -- and, as an addendum to my previous blog post, my boss gave me a quick rundown of all the changes that are to be made there yesterday, but I will hold off on talking about them until I implement these changes and see if they work -- but that indicates to me that there should have been a hell of a lot of work that came in yesterday, and that will (maybe?) come in today, along with the work that would normally come in today.  So we have two days' worth of work when I can obviously do only one.

See how the crap continues to roll down?  I'm fully expecting to be asked to come in to work tomorrow, and I'm debating whether to wake up early and do a normal day, come in for only a few hours so I can have lunch and dinner with my parents, or a hybrid of both.  (Heck, I'm still thinking I should take back not having dinner with my folks tonight because I might not have dinner with them tomorrow night.  We probably will be that backed up.)  And that affects something else I need to do: My taxes.  Yeah, I haven't even started on them yet.  I was going to this week, but I got both depressed over my team and tired because of, well, me, and so I was going to do them this weekend, but this damn storm has upended everything and given me the opportunity to take back the paid time off I took Tuesday and Wednesday.  Maybe I shouldn't take that opportunity; I really do need to look at my tax forms now.  But I won't make that choice until I absolutely have to, because that's, well, me.

On Procrastinating Drinking And Potentially Overthinking

I might be a manic person, because after a couple hours of surfing the Internet, looking at porn and touching myself, I'm finally getting around to making and drinking the Long Island iced tea that I should have drank at least around 10 p.m., not just before I am supposed to go to bed.  In the meantime, I'm thinking about my ATF, ******a, who texted me, "Busy tonight?" when 1) yes, I was busy tonight volunteering and 2) I thought I told her that I could see her at My Favorite Stripclub (Cover Edition) next week, not this week, and now I'm scared that I gave her tone when I told her no, I can't see her last/Wednesday night because she didn't text back with hearts or a kissing emoji like she used to.  Dammit, did I piss her off?  See, this is why I can't have relationships: I'll stick my foot in my mouth, she'll get angry, I'll rack my brain figuring out what I did wrong, and I'll conclude that the relationship is ruined beyond repair.  And this is why I go to stripclubs.

In the meantime, I have chores to do for tomorrow.  I need to pay the city the water and sewer bill.  I have to label the gas station-brand coffee creamer I bought after the post-volunteer dinner.  I need to make a sandwich for myself for work, opening up this special non-preserved loaf of bread that needs to be eaten in five days or else.  And finally, I need to make sure I pack an MNUFC jersey in my bag because I'm going to a Loons-themed concert at First Avenue tonight/Thursday night.

And I'm doing all this to while listening to Tommy Richman's "Million Dollar Baby" on a loop.  Not gonna lie, I love this song, and I've loved it ever since I heard it on that Wingstop commercial.  Since it clocks in at less than three minutes it's barely a song, but goddamn is it catchy!  Do you know there are YouTube videos of this song being played on a loop?  I'm listening to one where it's been recorded on repeat for up to an hour.  I wish the ending and beginning was more seamless, but no matter -- I am pushing through these tasks while listening to this earworm.

Expenses Without Receipts

Oh, shit.  I haven't done one of these in more than two months.  Starting from Saturday, December 7:

• I filled in for someone at work.  Based on the paucity of work that has come in lately, I thought I would be able to leave early.  Good thing too, because I wanted to go to Hooters because the local waitresses who posed for their calendar were doing a signing.  Then, I figured I would go to My Favorite Stripclub (Cover Edition) to see my ATF there and have a few dances before Christmas and while the weather was good.  Too goddamn bad that somehow, work ran long.  It ran so long that I pretty much missed the signing.  I say pretty much because I had to get out of the line waiting for a table -- that was something I was not anticipating -- to go over to the signing table.  They were packing up -- a little before they said they were going to end the event, by the way -- so I asked one of the women who posed if they were closing up shop.  They have ... but, would I like to buy a calendar?  Now, my plan was to use the calendar as part of the requirement to use a coupon for free fried pickles.  But I wasn't going to wait in line to eat there, plus I kind of felt committed to a hot babe offering to not only sell me but, it turns out, sign the calendar too.  Besides, I wanted to go the strip club, and if I couldn't eat, I might as well leave ASAP.  So I bought the calendar.  And even though the price was $19.52, it was not as if she had a cash register there.  I gave her $20.52, but she had to run to the back to get my buck in change, so she said if I could just leave the $20 I laid down at the table.  So I did: $20.
• So glad I saw ******a.  Cover, a bottle of cider for me, a Shirley Temple (!) for her, 23 couch dances, five bucks in tips for her at the stage and another for security on my way out, and that all adds up to: $261.
• Back to Thursday the 5th, where I stopped for money before work and then walked over to the nearby Caribou.  I was going to get oatmeal, but with the long line waiting for food and me (once again) not building in time to eat, I just went for a medium mocha.  With tip: $5.80.
• That evening I got wanked by *****y.  I love the idea of getting jerked off by her even though the actual, ah, act has not been as enjoyable now that I'm old.  But that's on me, not her.  Cost: $150.
• Monday, December 2 ... this was the day I had to see the title company.  After this momentous, uh, moment, I needed to eat something.  So, I went to a spot that opened up in the summer that has gotten rave reviews, Wells Roadside, which was formerly a drive-in.  I don't think the burger, jazzed-up fries and cocktail are at drive-in prices, but it was good, and it hit the spot at a time I needed to cram my anxieties down my throat.  With tip, and don't be shocked: $33.81.
• Later in the afternoon, ******e came out to touch my cock until I had an orgasm.  Lately she's been texting me asking if she could play with my penis.  I know she's just looking for my money, but the way she says that turns me on, even if I don't, uh, physically respond that way anymore because I am old.  Cost: $120.
• Holy shit ... I have to go all the way back to Monday, October 7, where I finally got around to seeing The Searchers, thought by many to be The Best Western Ever.  I was disappointed, I have to say.  Westerns back in the day are very black-and-white when it comes to issues and morals, but I was thinking this John Wayne movie was fantastic because of its ambiguity.  There wasn't; instead, there were subplots regarding a mixed-race nephew and a surprise marriage, and, to me, a central plot that continued the antiquated notions of White cowboys = good/them Indians = bad.  Anyway, the tips I gave to concessions and the pre-show organist were cash: $2.
• Thursday, October 3: There was a party where *****y, after some hesitation (she never hesitated at parties given at this house before), cranked my cock.  She wanted a tip, too; damn, these things are getting more and more expensive.  Also, I paid the host an extra $10 because I didn't have enough money for the cover the last time I went to a stripper party he hosted.  All told: $200.
• September ... it was still warm back in September.  Anyway, on Wednesday, September 25, I went and got a haircut.  With tip: $25.
• And I found a penny.  An Infusion of: 1 cent.

This went on ridiculously too long.  But I am caught up through December 7.

Choosing Not To See LeBron

This has crossed my mind whenever The Bastard Minneapolis Lakers come to town: This might be the last time I see LeBron James play.  I remember it was either the first or second Year he was in the NBA, and I got a Timberwolves ticket just to see him play.  He was the obvious focal point of the team, and he showed flashes of athleticism, but nothing that made me say, Wow, this guy is the second coming.

Didn't know at the time he would become LeBron James, and now he is The Greatest Basketball Player Of Our Generation.  But I don't know when he's going to quit.  He's still going strong, which is fast becoming one of his best-ever attributes.  Still, as a basketball aficionado, I should want to see him before he retires.  We just don't know when that is.  I don't know if James knows when that is.  I just know that for at least the past two seasons and possibly more, I thought that I should buy a ticket, just in case.

Unfortunately, that realization only comes when I do The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey and realize The Team That Was Stolen From Us v.1.0. is coming, and by the time I think what I'm doing the night of the Game, I realize, or decide, I can't go.  Like this Week, and today; they're in town to play the Timberwolves.  I actually do have the time.  In fact, I could decide to not go exercise, which is the plan, buy the ticket on a scalper site, and leave for downtown, right now.  But ... well, I haven't exercised in a while, I need to go to my storage space to start bringing things back home and ... shit, I'm using my OCD as excuses not to go, namely that I went to a Timberwolves Game last Week (and saw them lose), and I'm paying cash for everything today and buying a ticket means going online and using a credit card, and I don't want to do that.  So, for all those reasons -- nearly all relatively superficial -- I'm not going.

But that's the gamble, isn't it?  LeBron James keeps playing, and he's showing no signs of slowing down.  But one of these days he's retiring, and depending on how he announces it, the prices for his Last Dance will go through the roof.  It was one of the reasons I decided not to see Lakers Games in the past, and yet tonight's Game is as cheap for that team as I've ever seen it.  Still, I'm not going tonight, and I'm hoping he doesn't say he's quitting the sport next year.  And even if he doesn't, I wonder if I'll finally take the time and prepare to see him, probably for the last time, next season, and not push it off and hope he'll still be playing.

Yeah, I'm Addicted To Twitter

I hate that I get much of my news, and spend much of my time, doomscrolling on it.  It sucks so much out of me.  First of all, it sucks so much of my time.  Second of all, it is by far the application with the biggest drain of energy out of my phone.  That should be logical, but I swear that it is taking more than it did from my old iPhone, and it's taken more ever since Elon Musk bought it.

And speaking of Musk, I am seeing how Twitter/X has gone from a reputable social media site with standards to one that only pushes Republican shitposters and repeatedly and shamelessly upsells you on stuff I have no interest in buying at all.  The latter is annoying, but unfortunately, the former keeps me tuned in because my outrage keeps getting pushed with any tweet that I either like or hate.  I haven't bought anything from Musk, but I damn well know he is still making money off of me the way I am hooked on that site.

Like I did just now.  I just spent five minutes looking through Twitter/X.  There were some sports tweets, which I enjoy, but a lot of it was about politics, and if I liked that it was bashing Republicans, I like-like-liked it to my heart's content.  And I need to get on my roller, brush my teeth, and go to bed instead of doing that.  Like I said, I'm addicted.  I wonder if I could live without it.  And I wonder if I should.

Got just about a full night of sleep -- and overnight, when I'm supposed to sleep -- and I realized when I was awake at a quarter to 5 that I have alumni stuff to do as well as doing my fantasy auction tonight as well as getting back to this guy about tickets to our Game as well as finding this information from a fellow alum who's coming in from California.  And I kind of need to do all this, like, right now, before I leave for work.

But I have to leave for work and I'm not done, so ... yeah.