I was afraid The Third Department was going to be hell since one of my co-workers was taking the rest of the week off, and it was.  Goddamn, I didn't leave last/Thursday night until 7:15 -- that's a 10:45 day.  I'm glad I got to the pizza place (in a gas station very close by me) before they closed.  But it might be just as bad today/Friday because there are a half-dozen tests coming in.  There were only supposed to be two yesterday/Thursday but that became six, goddammit.

Since I got home much later than I was hoping, all the things I thought I wanted to do I just didn't do -- not just because I got home so late, but also because I was so tired.  At least I have enough energy to blog post this complaint.

Hour And A Half, Hour And A Half, Hour And A Half

I'm trying to watch as much World Cup as I can as the Matches dwindle.  (Sure, my liver might not make it; I'll talk about that next blog post, hopefully.)  This workweek, last night's USA lost excepted, all the Games are in the afternoon.  I don't mind dropping by this one Mexican place close by work to catch the tail end of one of these Knockout Round Matches.  I have developed (well, maybe my OCD has developed) a principle whereby I try and go to a place at least twice to watch Games.  I've been to this pretty expensive restaurant only once, and since I have my places for the Semifinals and Final mapped out, this week's Matches have to be it.

Ideally, I would be able to drop in on a day where I'm scheduled to work early on a day where the Game is at late in the afternoon as possible.  That's only 3 o'clock.  Is that happening this week?  Nope, not at all.  There are Matches today/Tuesday and Thursday at 3, but I am scheduled for The Third Department.  Even if I can get out of work after eight hours (and that's probably not going to happen), I'll be done at 4:30.  Ninety Minutes of the Game would already be done, so I would have to hope that a Match reaches Extra Time for it to be worth driving to this place for a tequila and a taco or something.  Friday I am scheduled to work until 3:30, but dammit, the Game that afternoon begins at 2.  Same scenario.  Of course.

And yet I am thinking that, barring some miracle where there is no work and I can leave early today/Tuesday or Thursday, if I really, really want to sate my OCD and go to this Mexican restaurant to watch the World Cup a second time there, I would ask my boss if I can come in and leave early on Friday.  I can at most shift up my shift a half-hour, which means I would leave work an hour into that Match.  I might have, oh, less than 30 Minutes to watch a Game that might be over by the time I leave.  Also, not for nothing, I have a house party to go to that will also supply food and drink.  Don't want to stuff my face twice on Friday, but my OCD is barking at me to do this.  For soccer!

The Taste Of Throw-Up In Your Mouth, Mmmmm!

And that's what woke me up.  Again I stayed out to watch soccer and so I plopped into bed as soon as I got home.  (Didn't help that the start of England-Mexico was delayed an hour due to storms, but maybe it wouldn't've made a difference.)  And I think I would've gotten a full night's sleep if, about 3 1/2 hours into my rest, I threw up in my mouth.  I've had an acid reflux attack like that before, but this tasted different.  Maybe it was the fact it woke me up, but the bile in this one was ugh.  And because I woke up, I haven't been able to go back to sleep since.

Going backwards, yesterday/Sunday I had water, chips and salsa, a couple beers, a personal-sized pizza, a mole stout, and three tacos.  They say you shouldn't immediately lie down after you eat and drink.  I want to say it was an hour from my last sip (which was the water) to conking off, but maybe that wasn't enough.  Or, by the pizza taste in the bile, maybe it was the fact that I ate too much, again.

Never-Ending Tea

I continued my World Cup-watching sojourn around the cities last/Thursday night at this new Mediterranean place for Switzerland-Algeria.  I saw it was a restaurant that was going to show Matches.  Unfortunately, that is not quite the case.

First of all, as I peered into the restaurant right after parking, their TV was not tuned to that.  Instead, their TV(s) was/were being used for their menu.  I don't know if the owners of the restaurant also own the Yemeni coffee place right next to it, but they were showing the Game on their outdoor patio.  Sold.  Plus, I heard good things about this place, so this was a good time to try it out and try something I've never tried before.

Well, the victuals and libations were great but the atmosphere wasn't.  Well, the Match-watching wasn't.  For some damn reason, the TV was using a stick or a streamer that tuned in to not Fox Sports 1 or Telemundo but the Arabic feed for BeIn, which I guess holds the rights to the World Cup in the Arab world.  Why they just didn't bleepin' get satellite is beyond me, because this feed or stick or streamer or television set had this nasty habit of cutting out and reverting to audio every five minutes, and the only way to restore the picture was to use the remote control and hit a button.  The first time this happened the people on the patio watching the Game were scrambling, and by the time we got the video feed back, Switzerland scored what eventually became the Match-winner.  I was going to stay the whole Match, but I was done after the First Half.  Well, the mosquitos biting me didn't help, either.

The problem with watching World Cup Games in restaurants and pubs is that I feel compelled to give them business by buying food and drink.  So I have bought a lot of food and drink, including yesterday/Thursday.  I got out of work at a very decent time, so I had the chance to see Portugal-Croatia in its entirety, and I decided to go to this Mexican place to see the whole thing.  And since I was staying for two hours, I bought a plate of barbacoa chilaquiles with a Corona before the First Half, then a cup of esquites with a Coke for the Second Half.  I got so damn full after that, but I was determined to try out this new place and challenge my palate with "ethnic" food and drink.

And, of course, my stomach is distended because of it.  I settled for Dubai chocolate cake, which has been a cliche for two years now, but it was good.  So was the Adeni tea that I had ... er, am still having.  As of press time, I'm still not done with the cup.  It's a medium-sized cup, something akin to a medium from Caribou.  And while I sometimes need to finish up the mochas that evening, the only times I haven't finished drinks like that is when I forgot, and then I have to drink quick in the morning.

That is not necessarily the case with this.  My stomach might have been telling me it couldn't, um, stomach any more liquids after eating at the Mexican place.  Also, I have to say that Adeni team was damn hot.  I got it early in the First Half, and even as the Game went to Halftime, the cup was hot to the touch.  The hot and humid weather can't explain that.  But I got home to drink this tea while watching from my bedroom for the Second Half.  I tried to drink it all because it was only warm at this point.  But by God, I couldn't get done with this.  Swear to God this is a bottomless cup of Adeni tea.  If this were a a mocha from Caribou, chances are I could finish it.  But there was still more, and still more, and still more, no matter how much I drank.

Finally, I remembered that I juiced the other half-lemon before going to the Mexican restaurant, so I needed to make myself a cocktail (a sidecar) to use the lemon juice.  So that means I have tea left over.  Oh, and I still have coffee from work yesterday/Thursday left over, too.  And I still need to drink my sidecar, but right now I am sipping only because I am damn full.

I checked the World Cup schedule for next week.  Since we're getting into the really important Games, the number of them obviously dwindles, and they'll be played in the afternoons when I'm working.  USMNT is playing Monday night.  Other than that, I do not need to go out and eat and drink to watch soccer the rest of next week until next Saturday.  Maybe I will stop eating and drinking so much then.  And hopefully I will have drank all the tea by then, too.

I was going to blog post about me deciding to attend the Women's PGA Championship at Hazeltine (tl;dr in case I don't ever get back around to talking about it: I'm glad I went) or the time Friday I went downtown just to watch the World Cup and a growing party just fucking got in my way.  But before I left for Hazeltine yesterday/Sunday I juice half a lemon and got 35 mL out of it.  That meant I had to drink two cocktails, and since I got back so late I had only till 9:30 p.m. (I juiced them around 11:30 a.m. and I think you have up to ten hours before the juice starts to taste bleh) to use them, and I realized while watching Red Sox-Yankees on NBC that it was past 9, so I made and downed a lemon drop martini and then quickly followed that up with a between the sheets, and not only do I have a pounding headache, I think I may have poisoned myself.

So, to summarize, that is what I'm blog posting about ... while also providing a possible cause of death in case I don't wake up in the morning.

And dammit, even though I was at home, ready to watch the Mexico-South Korea Match in its entirety, and I miss the two most important plays of the Game (the Goal and the crazy double-save by the Mexican Goalkeeper) because I to relieve myself in the bathroom.  Was it the two muffins at work?  The quesabirria after work?  The chicken chowder I got at the gas station where I dumped my garbage and added air to my tires?  Whatever -- I had the bad, bad timing of being in the can and so I didn't see it live.  I saw replays, and I heard it live from the TV in the dining room, but I didn't see it live.  And the curse of being able to see Goals and not seeing them because I'm distracted continues. ...

Doin' The Quad! And On A Full Stomach!!!

Soccer days don't get much fuller than this -- a quadrupleheader of World Cup Group Stage Matches, each evenly spread out with approximately an hour inbetween.  Games at noon, 3, 6 and 9.  And I am going to be at one place for all four of them.

I am going to try and eat and drink through the day.  But my last meal was last night's birria tacos with ramen.  It didn't look like much, but I had to take the rest of the ramen home with me to eat after about an hour.  I had to relieve myself, and post haste.  I don't know why I got so full: I had only a elote going out to the Mexican craft brewery to watch Brazil and Morocco tie, and like I said in my last blog post, I ate waffles in the morning.  It couldn't have been the beer, or the mango michelada, could it?

Anyway, thing is I feel, well, full.  And I didn't plan on it.  This place has five ethnic-themed hot dogs, and I want to try at least four of them.  The way I'm feeling now, I might not make it.  And that surprises and, to be honest, disappoints me.

Addendum To: Planning World Cup Viewing Where

And complicating all my World Up watch-planning is something I thought of, and just did, this/Saturday morning: The food I have at home.  After I watched the U. S. take it to Paraguay, I'm all in on the World Cup.  Hell, I might take off work to watch Matches.  (I already have one planned for two weeks from now, but I might just take more days off.)  I want to go out every day.  But I shouldn't, because I have milk that's about to go bad, bread that's been in the fridge for two weeks, deli meat that I've barely made a dent on, and frozen waffles and french toast that I should get around to eating.

But dammit, I don't feel like staying home on the weekends and eating them all.  I really, really prefer going out Saturday and Sunday and watching soccer.  Guess that food can wait till the workweek ... but right now I really, really prefer heading out after work to watch soccer at a pub or restaurant, too.  Man, I don't know what I'm going to do.

I was so tuckered out after the USMNT Game that I promptly fell into bed.  Probably conked off around 11 p.m.  Woke up a quarter after 8, totally refreshed.  The one thing I am going to do today is go to this Mexican craft brewery and watch Brazil-Morocco there.  My secondary plan is going to this Mexican place close to me and see if I can watch at least part of Haiti-Scotland there.  They have a TV on, and for some stupid reason it's on a Fox local channel (not Fox News, not the Fox station here in town, but "Fox Local" -- it shows news stories that come from a random series of local telecasts, or at least that's what it appears to be).  I kind of want to know if they take TV requests, and if not, this will be the first World Cup Match I won't be able to follow, either on TV or through the radio.

So this involves a lot of eating out, as you can tell.  And yet I also had a plan to, if I woke up early enough, eat either the frozen waffles or french toast sticks whose boxes I've already opened up.  I just ate the waffles (and chased it down with milk).  I'm not hungry anymore, but because I'm up and because the first WC Game of the day, Qatar-Switzerland, is not until 2, I think I'll go shopping and eat lunch.  I need creamer, but I thought about getting ground meat for spaghetti I might make next week.  But if I'm going out at least thrice next week, what's the point?  And sure, why eat lunch when I'm already not hungry after breakfast?  Good question, but I think I'll still have soup and a sandwich.  Or, I might take the sandwich home and eat it later.  That might be the food I'll have next week ... well, beyond the food I already have at home.

Too Many Oranges

Yesterday/Tuesday evening, helped by the fact that I got out of work early (I had to stop by the local grocery store to get a chicken breast on sale, but even with that I got home earlier than I usually do these days), I ate the final part of the last of five oranges I bought two weeks ago.  I've read on the Internet that you don't want to eat oranges that have been in the fridge for that long, but they tasted like oranges (even though the taste was a tad off) and hey, I haven't gotten sick after eating any of them, including the one yesterday/Tuesday evening.

I bought these at the discount grocery store, so I got, or felt I got, a bargain.  Also, I bought five of them because I wanted to make sure I had enough orange juice to make all the cocktails I wanted to make.  Well, I made one mimosa and one monkey gland, and still I have to eat, oh, three of the five oranges like they were, you know, oranges.  I shouldn't complain; they're a great source of vitamin C, of course.  But I way overestimated the number of oranges I needed for cocktails.  Need to cut back next time.

I went through my plans of going to this new Middle Eastern place that came recommended after I left last/Friday night's Prince tribute concert.  Interesting food, but I didn't think it'd be so much.  Moreover, I ordered this through drive-thru at around 1:30.  I got done eating it all around 4.  And I'm having donuts with someone I haven't seen since high school this/Saturday morning at 10.  Eating this was a mistake.  And I regret doing so.

I'm A Desperate, Horny, Forgetful Goddamn Lush

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

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

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

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

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

Is BBQ Supposed To Give You So Much Regret?

So last/Tuesday night after work (and after dropping off my property taxes), I went to this barbecue place relatively close by that I have heard a lot of good things about.  And I love BBQ, so I looked through reviews to see what people really liked -- and I tried pretty much all of the best recommendations, namely this place's pulled pork, ribs, brisket, and mac 'n' cheese.

It came in a relatively small tray.  I thought I would conquer it with ease.  In fact, all the items I bought were essentially half-orders, and looking at what I got, I regretted that I didn't go with full orders like I originally wanted.  Wow, was I wrong.  I finished up with the ribs, and the last two bones felt like climbing the sheer face of a mountain vertically.  After starting up just fine I hit a wall out of nowhere, and I can't help but think that the Unforgivable Wetness of 20 or even ten years ago would've wolfed all that down and ordered the same thing again.

No meat sweats, but even now I feel so logy, let alone fat.  All that meat felt good going down my throat, but now that all of that went through my stomach (and sure, my intestines, too), my tummy aches.  And I'm scared it's going to ache tomorrow.  How can I regret eating such good barbecue??

I Make Bad Choices

So I was at this bar last/Monday night for the WNBA Draft (the Lynx will rue that they chose Miles over Fam Thiam, book it).  I wanted to stay for the whole thing, but the wings I got weren't enough for me.  So I got these "Chicken Dunkers," and when the server asked me what else I wanted to go with it, I realized I may have gotten myself way over my head, or stomach.  And lo and behold, I got this small but bountiful basket of chicken ... well, they're smaller than tenders but bigger than nuggets, put it that way.  And there were tater tots, which I chose, interspersed with those.  I finished, but barely, and now I feel fat.  Because I am fat, and I make bad choices when it comes to eating.

I was so tired after coming home I went to bed after the news.  As I was falling asleep I realized that there's a bruise on my left knee.  Have no idea where I got it from.  I didn't bang something hard at work or at the bar.  Maybe it happened spontaneously.  Maybe my body's breaking down.

I make bad choices.

When I Socialize, I Eat ...

... and I had a group dinner on Friday and a friend's birthday dinner last/Saturday night.  I went to two places I haven't been to, and to celebrate, I ordered a lot of food.  And I ate it.  And I am fat, and I feel fat.  

Drank a bit, too.  Starting to feel like it's a bit much.  It certainly is wrecking my sleep schedule.  I went to bed early last/Saturday night because I was tired, and yet I woke up at 8.  And I see, as I type this, that the Gold Medal Game of the Olympic men's hockey tournament is going on now.  Everybody, and I mean everybody, is watching this Game ... and to celebrate, I think that I am going to go out to watch with other Americans, too.

I don't stop.  Even though, maybe, I should.

Anyone Want A Water Filter?

It's not good that I can't track stuff that I've already bought.  I got water filters delivered because I know it's been about a year since it's been changed.  After I ordered some, I went into my storage unit and saw that I have about three left over from a previous order.  I think I will now have four extra once I get around to putting a new one in.  Oops.

Now, to be fair, I might have changed it in the fall and thus checked whether I had extra in my unit, but my parents were here and Mother had a bad knee, so I was preoccupied with that.  Also, maybe not in my defense, storing these in my unit makes for an "out of sight, out of mind" situation where I wouldn't've remembered ever buying these extra filters until I bought more.  Finally, for some reason, Father turned off the humidifier last year.  In fact, it may have been over a year in which he didn't turn it on.  However, inexplicably, it looks as though he turned it back on some time during my parents' extended stay back at home.  I noticed, and then I got around to remembering the filter needed changing when I got an alarm last week that water was leaking from the humidifier while I was at work.  I went home, opened everything up and, beyond needing to clean the apparatus of limescale and calcium deposits, the water filter needs to be replaced.  This was an instance of "out of sight, out of mind," but in plain sight.

Anyway, I have to change my water filter, then store the extras back in my unit.  Great.

Addendum To: On Money -- When I Spend It And When I Complain About Spending It

OK, so this is what I did on Sunday.

I was still feeling the pull of the Megamall.  Moreover, I was feeling the pull of Grand Casino Arena, which was staging both Semifinals of the World Juniors.  I stay pretty late after Vikings Games to make sure the traffic thins out, but I could move it up and still leave without getting stuck.  So I formulated a plan to go down to the Mall Of America, buy some stuff at the pop-up store, eat at Popeye's (I had this digital coupon of three tenders for a buck), then drive to downtown St. Paul.  If I could find parking close enough to the arena (parking meters aren't enforced in St. Paul on Sundays, so yay for me), I would park, buy a ticket, then see the second Semi at 7:30.

That last bit was buoyed in part by the prices I saw at scalper sites.  I checked after Friday night's Quarterfinals, which included the United States losing to Finland in Overtime.  I thought the prices would crater because the host U. S. was no longer in it, but prices were too high for me to entertain.  In fact, I think StubHub told me there were no tickets to sell.  But I checked again Saturday, and not only were there many tickets, prices were falling like a stone.  SeatGeek's cheapest ticket Friday night was $93; it became about $50 Saturday, and while at work, I checked again and it fell to $39.  That's it, man; even though I was tired as hell and I would be driving all around the Twin Cities, I decided to do all this.

Well, first of all, me eating so much after the Game that I had to shit really bad threw the Popeye's deal out the window.  I felt this push out of my asshole while I was driving down to MOA, and if you know that feeling, it feels like you're about to fucking shit your pants so bad everyone will see and point at you and laugh.  Scariest feeling in the world, am I right?

But I made it to the public men's room next to the doors at MOA, aka the last place I would want to evacuate my bowels, but of course, I had no choice.  This diarrhea attack made me second-guess if I should even try and go to the Game.  Good thing, then, that I didn't plan on buying a ticket unless I found a space to park in St. Paul.

Systems back to normal, I went to the pop-up.  That orange quarter-zip that probably was going to be the thing I buy?  Well, it went from one or two of those to six or seven.  Unfortunately, the only sizes available were small and extra-large.  This was something I saw with several popular items while I was browsing for World Juniors clothing.  I couldn't buy that, and nothing else there interested me.  So I didn't buy anything there, like I thought I would.  Yeah, it was kind of a waste driving down there.  But I had to know.

Didn't feel the urge to crap after that excretory meltdown when I cashed in the winning Powerball tickets I bought (oh yeah, I did that, too) on my way out to the car, so I felt good going to the arena.  And maybe I shouldn't be surprised considering the half-empty crowds at Mariucci Arena for group and Quarterfinal Games, but I found a spot easy-peasy.  And so I turned off the car, leaned my seat back, and looked at SeatGeek and StubHub for a ticket to that 7:30 Game.  And I was surprised, and disappointed, that somehow prices for that Game went back up.  It can't be demand; these scalper sites are running fucking algorithms to maximize prices.  Makes me so goddamn frustrated.  But hey, I got there, and I wanted to go, so I bought a ticket for Canada-Czechia for, hrmph, $50.

By the way, great Game.  Back and forth, but the Czechs got the upset (even though this is the third straight year the country eliminated the Canadians), 6-4.  (That Semifinal, by the way, was delayed from its scheduled start because the first Semi went past Overtime into a Shootout, where Sweden slipped past Finland, 4-3.)  I'm glad I went, and this is the World Juniors, so maybe I shouldn't bitch so much over the price of the ticket.  Anyway, I had plenty of time to check out the merchandise tables at the "Gicka."  You remember my obsession/fear about "exclusivity," buying items that I could only find at Mariucci or the pop-up store at the Mall Of America?  Well, that OCD blew up in my face.  That hoodie with the huge 2026 IIHF World Juniors logo right on the front that I bought at Mariucci?  Saw it there.  And I also saw the Paul Bunyan & Babe t-shirts I also bought at Mariucci, as well as the first pair of t-shirts I bought, the ones that had the flags on the hockey blades on the front I bought at the pop-up.  Oh, and the pin, too.

So, when it comes to buying things that appeared to be at only one place, I got the scarf that I bought down at MOA and the winter hat with the logo on a plate stitched on it at Mariucci.  All the other stuff I bought I could've bought at any of the three places.  And the scarf and hat, for all I know, were being sold at the other two places before they sold out.  I'll rest in the peace of my ignorance.  But I think I could've been more judicious about what I would've bought if I could've went to Grand Casino Arena for that Sunday group stage Game if not for the snowstorm that blew in that day.  I think I would've gone up to the merch tables, realize that most if not all the items were the same as that at Mariucci, realize that some of the things I saw down at the Megamall I didn't see there (and vice versa), and purchased accordingly.  But now I have a lot of things that, right now, I'm not cool with (see Title of blog post).

But hey, it was the World Juniors!

Nope, The Car's Broken, Probably

No rhythmic crinkling still; the lug nut fixed that.  Still, I am worried about the oil.  Last week I put in, like, 100 mL because, according to the very unreadable orange dipstick, it was low.  I checked after I put in the oil and the level went up, so it looks as though putting oil in helps.

But that dipstick seems to be low whenever I check it these days.  I thought I should check it again, this week, just to see.  And I did that after work yesterday/Monday, and goddammit, the level is lower.  Maybe not low, but it's concerning because, beyond going from downtown Minneapolis to Cedar-Riverside, I didn't really go anywhere in the week or so since I dumped oil in it.

Winter literally is coming.  It'll snow tonight/Tuesday night, and then the cold is coming in and will settle for the time being.  Not ideal oil-adding weather.  So after I came home and ate dinner, I threw in some more oil.  Nothing more than a quarter-quart if that, but if the dipstick is supposed to be an indication of how low I am down to a quart, that line when I check it again should go back up.

And fuckin' A, I immediately regretted it.  What if I put in too much?  That's why I didn't put in half a quart.  I don't want to overfill it.  But I can't underfill it either, so what happens if what I put in is still not enough?  Every car I have to put in oil becomes fucking Goldilocks, for God's sake.  And why in the hell am I putting in oil twice less than a week?  If I have to, that's a sign that my car's going through it way more than it should.  Or, maybe it's not going through oil as fast as I think it is, and I'm just fucking paranoid because I've been traumatized by my cars not working in years past.  Fuck if I know.

I have half a mind to bring my car quickly to my mechanic, again -- just to ask him if there are any oil leaks, and then maybe ask if to teach me how to read the damn dipstick.  But like I said before, they probably are closed Wednesday afternoon.  Plus, the weather is going to be bad then, so I don't know if they'd be in a mood to indulge my anxieties.  Oh, and they might charge me to do that, too.

I'm scared I filled my engine with too much oil, and I'm also scared that my engine will run out of oil a week from now.  Goddamn, I hate being afraid of what my car will do.

The Car's Gonna Have A Massive Workout This Weekend

I was going to give it a break today/Saturday, but instead my sister and I are going to watch what is left of the leaves on the trees.  Then tomorrow/Sunday I want to fuck ****e at her place.  That's two long drives on a car that is getting worked over ever since my sister came home.  Add that my sister will be using my car thrice over next week, an important one for Mother, and I realize that I have not used my car a whole lot this year, and maybe for past years.  I have been just driving to and from work most days because I've been working like a dog.  But ever since my sis came home, my car's been everywhere -- too much, I'm afraid.  But until my folks get on out of here, my car will be racking up the miles.

It's still working, for now.  But the trauma from dealing with my old car makes me scared that this new one is breaking down because we're overworking it.

A Lot/Too Much Coffee

So yesterday/Monday was National Coffee Day, and I decided that out of the two gas stations that offered me free coffee, I would go to the closer one because there free coffee was any size.  I got a large because ... well, I guess I didn't look for an extra large, maybe because it wouldn't fit in the cup holders in my car, but a large was plenty.  As it was brewing at the automatic coffee brewer, I stepped back and looked at the huge large cup and went, "Whoa, even for a large, that cup is, uh, large."  Seriously, even for American sizes, I think the cup I got should be an extra large.

And, of course, I didn't finish it.  A lot of it has to do with work; The Third Department was its usual bear.  But I still think I drank more coffee than I usually do; it's just that I had a very large pool of coffee to get through, and I didn't.  See, I have my own thermal bottle in which I always pour my coffee into to keep it warm.  Even after I did that, the cup from the gas station was two-thirds full.  I managed to drink everything that was in that cup, but barely anything I poured into my thermal bottle.

And that is where it stayed until just now.  Even though I'm not hungry, even though I had popcorn and Coke while watching Bride Of Frankenstein (nice movie; like the allegory of the Monster being misunderstood and even the meek in biblical terms ... oh, and the cinematography was excellent) about five hours beforehand, and even though I need to go to sleep, I drank some of the coffee still in my bottle to wash down a cookie I got working the Vikings Game that is 370 calories.  Damn, I need to watch my blood sugar.  Oh, well, I think I can contemplate how to lower that, and cut down on my weight, tonight because I will be tossing and turning in bed all night.

And I still haven't drank all of the coffee from my thermal bottle.  Most of it's still in there.  In fact, I think I have enough to tide me over through work today/Tuesday.  It'll be lukewarm, but heck, if it's going to be as busy in The Third Department today as it was yesterday, it'll be more than enough.

Maybe Fuck Dinner

I am doing my level best to convey how upset I am that they have gone through and literally thrown away most of my stuff, but doing so in a passive-aggressive way so that I don't get thrown out of the house.  That's tough to do, considering that they still don't seem to give a shit.  But I might have been pushed to do something that could get their attention, if only because I am now tired of it myself.

Yesterday/Thursday was a no-spend day.  I was going to go in to work, leave work, and go home.  (I have my trepidations about doing that, but I will blog post about that at a later time.)  Work actually was light, light enough for me to come home at a decent hour, early enough to eat dinner with my folks.  But that didn't happen.  My Fucking Mother recently alluded to the fact that, because I had worked so late so often, My Fucking Parents don't eat dinner much, either.  So, regardless of when I come home, eating together has gotten quite rare in the last, oh, couple months, and we really haven't eaten together all that much since they came home.

What they do is leave food for me, and usually it's too much, way more than I would get for myself if we were eating together.  My Fucking Parents continue to say that I don't have to eat all the food they leave for me, but I know that's a goddamn lie.  I mean, they used the impetus of me spearheading donating my old car as an excuse to clean everything else I hold near and dear out.  (Don't care if that sounds like a conspiracy; I believe it.)  So I am under the gun to eat everything they laid out for me.  And for dinner last night, they laid out two pork chops, three pieces of Kentucky Fried Chicken, a bowl of spicy vegetables, tofu soup, and about a cup of rice.

That was so goddamn much it took me two hours to eat it all.  And I feel fat because I am fat after consuming that all.  And they're not even there.  So now, after they've taken everything important from me and done so under false pretenses, why in the fuck am I eating all this shit by myself?  If dinner is something we don't do anymore, why should I even eat at home anymore?  I mean, sometimes I will eat out.  But I am thinking that even on these no-spend days, I just go home and ... not eat.  And it doesn't matter if I get home late or early.  I just won't eat.  You know, I keep complaining about all this food and how it's fattening my belly and making me gain weight.  Why not ... just not eat?

And hey, it might send a message that I don't think we're a family anymore.  Because after the bullshit they just pulled, we're not.