Negativity is the Norm

What is the deal with real estate agents?

2012-01-29T19:56:00.002-05:00

I've not had a good history with real estate agents.

Back in 2001, I recall looking around at area houses. I called about a few places that struck my fancy, only to have the real estate agents mostly ignore me. I think I made about five or six inquiries back then, and only got one response.

In 2004 and 2005, I recall being interested in a few more places, but the real estate agents again mostly ignored me. There were two instances during this period where I had actually set an appointment to look at a property, only to have the real estate agent never show up. One time when I called one of these agents and asked where he was, he said, "I'm busy." Thanks for wasting my time, jerk.

Only in late 2006, when I foolishly stumbled upon my current abode, did the real estate agent I contacted seem interested in making a sale.

Those previous interactions were all made when the real estate market was doing well. Agents could ignore potential prospects because other buyers were climbing out of the woodwork. It was a seller's market.

Flash forward a few years. The real estate market has taken a tumble. Home values are significantly less than what they were before. It is a buyer's market. I would think potential buyers would be something today's real estate agents could not afford to ignore.

If I thought that, then I was wrong.

At the end of last month, I noticed a property a few miles from where I live. It was out in the country. There was once a house there but it was gone now, but there was still a three car garage on the property.

I've been searching for some local storage space, plus it might be a good spot to build a new home in a few years, after I get my current place in the condition where I might be able to sell.

There was a "For Sale" sign in the yard with a real estate agent's name and number. I took it down. I got online and searched for the property in the MLS listings. It wasn't there. I found the real estate agent's website and sent an email asking about the property. Two weeks passed and I got no response.

I got online again and submitted an information request through her agency's website. Another week passed and I got no response.

I drove past the property, and there was another sign in the yard which exclaimed there was a "New Price" on the place. I left a voicemail for the real estate agent asking for information. That was two weeks ago, and I have yet to get any response.

I drove by the property last week. The "For Sale" signage was still there. I got online and it was still not in the MLS listings. I found the owner of the property. I considered contacting them to get information, but that is why they have real estate agent... to dole out info. I thought they might like to know that their real estate agent was ignoring potential buyers, but I don't know the whole story, plus I'd be invading their privacy.

I drove by the property again today. The "For Sale" and "New Price" signage was still there. After rejecting the idea of making an in-person stop at the real estate agent's office, I think I finally have accepted the fact that I will never own this property. They would probably want to much for it anyway. It just bugs me how real estate agents operate. If I acted as unprofessional as they seem, I'd be unemployed in less than a week.

Winter bird

2012-01-27T13:09:00.001-05:00

I was trudging back to my car after work Wednesday afternoon. I wasn’t really thinking about much of anything. That’s when I saw it out of the corner of my eye; a large bird flying around. It appeared to be some kind of white gull. It seems odd to see a water loving bird like this so far inland, but I see them sometimes hanging around downtown by the river.

It was a winter’s day, but this bird was flying around without a care. I thought about what a hardy bird it must be; hardy enough to live through a Midwestern winter. What a strong bird.

The bird was flying all over the place. Sometimes it landed on a lamppost. Sometimes it landed on a telephone line. I thought about how awesome it must be to fly wherever you want, whenever you want. What a lucky bird.

When it landed on a lamppost, it looked around as if it owned everything it surveyed, standing straight and proudly puffing out its chest. What a regal bird.

I caught a glimpse of the bird’s heavy bill. It looked like it would work well to snatch some little critter out of the water and crunch it easily before swallowing. What a tough bird.

It was a good looking creature, with heavy white feathers, strong wings, and it was apparently healthy. Another one of God’s wonderful works. What a beautiful bird.

I trudged onward, thinking a little about this bird and its possibly awesome life. When I was maybe a hundred feet from my car, this bird flew in front of me one more time. I thought to myself, “Goodbye, winter bird. Good luck with whatever you do.”

I walked another few feet, and something struck my shoulder. I looked over to find a large blob of bird poop had landed on my jacket. What a crappy bird.

No. The sky is always silver with pink polka dots.

2012-01-25T16:52:00.002-05:00

Tuesday I survived a meeting at work where I was threatened with losing my job. This was the second such meeting in less than a week. Why is this happening? Well, I'll try to tell you, but it doesn't make a lot of sense to me.

D-Bag and I have been working on a project for about five months now. At the beginning of this project there was a kickoff meeting with another department where some key project details were discussed. This other department brought along a consultant to argue for them / protect their interests.

I don’t want to get into the tedious detail of what was discussed at this kickoff meeting, but let’s just say the meeting was very confrontational. I would say something like, “The sky is generally blue.” D-Bag would agree. Then this consultant would say, “No. The sky is always silver with pink polka dots.”

Again, the subject matter actually discussed at this kickoff meeting was tedious, but it should have been obvious to anyone who actually reflected upon what was discussed that the consultant did not know what he was talking about. The sky is not always a silver color with pink polka dots. It just isn’t. Case closed.

Anyway, despite my repeated attempts to correct the consultant at the kickoff meeting, my boss and his boss chose to believe everything that the consultant said. Why? I don’t know. Maybe because he was being paid twice what I am paid, and therefore the consultant should know what he is talking about.

So, the project started and it moved along for the past five months.

Last week at a meeting with my boss and his boss, I hinted that the sky is actually blue, and not silver with pink polka dots. My boss's boss got upset and said I could be fired if I spread such heresy without proof.

Tuesday, at a meeting with my boss and his boss, D-Bag and I presented concrete proof that the consultant had misinformed us during the kickoff meeting. It is one of the few times I can remember that D-Bag and I have been in complete agreement on something. That is when the shit hit the fan. My boss's boss flipped out and accused D-Bag and I of holding back information and that we could lose our jobs. When I reminded them that D-Bag and I had argued with the consultant about certain facts at the kickoff meeting, my boss and his boss refused to believe me. Selective memory, I guess.

I skated through today without much of a problem. My boss's boss stopped by my cube to shoot the breeze. I tried to be amiable, but I tend not to be buddies with folks who threaten to fire me because they were gullible / incompetent. And no, I'm not suddenly buddies with D-Bag. Don't worry. He is still a D-Bag to me.

On raccoons and poor budgeting

2012-01-22T19:54:00.004-05:00

I have a Columbus address, but I associate myself with the little burg of Groveport, just Southeast of the city. I do most of my grocery shopping there. I do my banking there. That is where my dentist and eye doctor have their offices. I recently found a little tavern on the edge of town where I might start hanging out once in a while.

I noticed the following story in the little area paper put out each week:

Raccoons in municipal building

Raccoons made a home as well as a mess in the Groveport Municipal Building.

"There are raccoons in the attic," said Groveport Economic Development Director Jeff Green at a recent Groveport City Council meeting. "We trapped four or five of them recently. It looks like they've been there for awhile because the insulation is matted down with raccoon waste. It could pose a serious health problem."

Green said it will cost an estimated $14,000 to clean up and repair the attic.

Additionally, Green said there are other structural issues at the municipal building, 665 Blacklist St., that have not been addressed since the building opened in 1995.

"They need to be taken care of before conditions worsen," said Green.

He said the municipal building roof is in "dire need of replacement" and that a new roof could cost an estimated $47,000. He said gutters, downspouts and worn carpeting need replaced and that repainting also should be done.

Green said $120,000, which had been budgeted in 2012 to fund heating and air conditioning debt payments, is available to use for the repairs because it was discovered that the debt was already paid off in 2011.

"The money is there," said Green.

"Let's do it right," said Councilman Shawn Cleary. "There's a lot of history in this building."

Green also suggested that city officials create a budget line item to fund future facility maintenance for city properties.

"It costs more to go back and fix things than to maintain them as we go along." said Green. "We need to preserve our investment in our buildings."

I should note that the building discussed above was purchased by the municipality back in 1994, and remodeled in 1995. It was built back in the mid-1800s.

My first reaction to this story was concern over the village's budgeting. They didn't realize they had paid off the $120,000 per year debt last year? Really? It seems like a significant cost for a tiny little village. I wonder what other stuff can be found in the village's budget. Still budgeting payments for that 1981 Ford LTD police cruiser? Still budgeting salaries for people dead twenty years? Nice.

My second reaction was about the village's debts. It is a tiny town, but they somehow incurred debt for "heating and air conditioning" that required payment of $120,000 per year. They only have a few buildings at most, and they are small buildings. That must be some super efficient heating and cooling equipment.

Third, I am concerned about the village's maintenance procedures. How did this raccoon problem get to be so dire? I know the village has a maintenance department. I see them tool around town patching the streets and whatnot. It seems that they should perform at least annual inspections of their buildings / properties.

Ah, well. I suppose this is the type of thing one encounters in small town life. Raccoons in the attic and folks not taking care of business. Good stuff.

On peach salsa, neighborhood punks, and poor craftsmanship

2012-01-21T19:25:00.001-05:00

So I've nearly finished off the various snacks and stuff I received over the holidays. One of the more odd items I received, at least in my opinion, was a jar of peach salsa.

Just who puts peaches in salsa? Was someone mixing up a batch of salsa, realized they didn't have enough tomatoes, peppers, chiles, or onions? They had some peaches laying around so they said, "What the heck, let's put 'em in."

So I tried it earlier and it was... okay. It tasted very much like regular salsa, but with a tangy sweetness. Personally though, I'd rather use peaches in pie than in salsa. Just my opinion.

***

Over the last couple weeks, we've finally been having some real winter weather here. Well, kind of. We might have some arctic temps and it might snow, but it would be followed by temps in the 40s and 50s a day or two later.

We had a small ice storm Thursday and again yesterday, followed by a dusting of snow... maybe an inch of the stuff. I watched the weather at noon today and it is supposed to reach the upper 40s tomorrow, so it will all melt again.

This afternoon my doorbell rang. I looked out at my driveway and didn't see a car parked there, so I knew someone had walked to my door from somewhere else in the neighborhood. I decided not to go to the door because it would have to be either a) Jehovah's Witness folks, or b) neighborhood punks looking to clear my driveway.

The doorbell rang again, and then again. Then someone pounded on my door. Then silence.

I went to the window to see two neighborhood punks walking away carrying a snow shovel and a broom.

Now I'm not against neighborhood kids trying to earn a dollar or two, but come on. There wasn't even enough snow to cover my driveway. I'm not sure what these kids thought they were going to do. Maybe they watched the weather too, and realized the snow would melt tomorrow, so they had to try and scam some folks out of some cash today.

Even Betty, my nearly 90 year old neighbor, refused their services. If she can get out and about without a problem, then everyone else should be able to too.

***

Over the last couple weeks, I've been working on the hallway which connects all the rooms on the first floor of my house. A couple weeks ago I pulled off the nasty wallpaper revealing an even nastier butt-ugly yellow paint job. Last weekend I painted the ceiling. This weekend I thought I could paint the walls after repairing some imperfections.

Not so fast there, Surly Scott.

After picking at the walls a bit and trying to fill some spots with spackle, I found out that two of the doors in this hallway must have been widened at some point. Whoever did that work must been an even worse craftsman than me. It seems he used a hammer to remove the excess drywall, instead of a saw or other tool which might leave an even finish.

I had to remove some of the moulding around the doors because some of the old damage was visible under the moulding after the wallpaper was removed.

I was told that the son of the ninety-something former owners thought himself a handyman. I've uncovered several examples of his "repairs." I hope he kept his day job, as he sucked as a handyman.

Whatever. I've got more spackling and sanding to do. There still may be a chance that I can get a coat of paint on these hallway walls this weekend if I stick with it. Bye.

2011 mindset / priority change

2012-01-19T19:52:00.002-05:00

As I look back on 2011, I realize that the biggest thing that happened for me was a change in mindset / priorities.

I started 2011 grimly holding onto my old ideas of trying to build a shell of a life that could possibly someday include a family. By the end of 2011, I had given up on those old notions and actually started thinking about retirement.

Retirement? Yes, I know. I am not even close to retirement age, but if I don't have to fund all the normal "family" things, then I shouldn't need to stay gainfully employed as long.... maybe another five years, maybe another ten years, whatever. Then perhaps I'll work part-time someplace just to give my life some structure, as I don't think I'd do well without someplace to go and something to do everyday.

A growing part of me no longer wants to get into another relationship, even a casual one, since it could adversely impact my retirement plans. Strange? Yes, I think so.

I've also been thinking about getting rid of all the junk that I've collected over the years. All that stuff acts as an anchor, forcing me to stay where I am, and it keeps me from pursuing other life-goals, like working odd jobs in exotic locales.

There is still a part of me that wants to work a summer on a ranch out west before I am too old, or to be a bartender on a cruise ship (not the Costa Concordia, please), or be a winter custodian at some summer resort (à la Stephen King's The Shining), or drive a big rig on a part-time basis. Yup, I'm pretty unrealistic as far as future planning goes.

If only I were less sentimental about my stuff, but I've grown attached to it. It will take a bit more time to lose my sentimentality... so maybe in a few years I'll be able to get rid of all my junk, and then I'll be able to pursue my unrealistic next career / semi-retirement.

I guess that will be another mindset / priority change for another year. We'll see what 2012 brings.

Texas trip?

2012-01-16T20:40:00.001-05:00

So I haven't taken a real vacation in a long time. The last time I got on a plane was 2005 when my ex and I spent a few days in San Francisco. The last time I actually took an entire week off to go someplace was way back in 2001 when I went to Seattle. So I think it is high time I go someplace, anyplace, to get away from my reality for a week or so.

One of the places I've been considering is Austin, Texas. Why? My ex lived there and she talked it up. She was going to show me around, but, well, that never happened. So I still have Austin on the brain.

I was planning on spending most of a week in Austin in early March, and then driving down to San Antonio for a couple days to do the standard touristy things there... see the Alamo, do the Riverwalk, and maybe see a Spurs game. That was my original plan.

During my family's recent holiday gathering, brother #2 suggested I go to Austin for the South by Southwest music festival. I had heard of it, but didn't really know much about it. I had worked with someone years ago who had gone to it and had a good time.

I investigated South by Southwest online the next day, and decided it wasn't for me. It was too big, and I was going to Austin by myself. It sounded like something a group of people might enjoy, not a solitary fool like me. I also found out South by Southwest was scheduled for March 9th - 18th, so I'd have to schedule my trip around that time period to avoid any associated craziness.

Saturday, I got online and searched for things to do in Austin. Most of the things I found were centered around music and or drinking. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy a beverage now and then, plus I enjoy live tunes too, but not enough to spend a week by myself in an unfamiliar city losing what is left of my hearing while getting plastered. No thanks. Maybe a few years ago I might have accepted that challenge, but those days are over.

If I am into anything travel related, I am into historic sites and scenic places. After looking over the stuff online, I figured I had found maybe two days of activities that I might enjoy while in Austin.

Discouraged, I started looking at stuff to do in San Antonio. There seemed to be a bunch more historical stuff to see in San Antonio.

So now I am thinking about spending three or four days in San Antonio, a couple days in Austin, and maybe a day somewhere else; maybe checking out one of the little towns in the hill country outside Austin. I am thinking of doing this trip in either late March or putting it off until the Fall.

Or I might not take any trip at all. I might get wrapped up with work, or I might decide to spend my vacation cash on my home remodel or auto restoration projects. That is what happened in 2011 and in 2010. My vacation plans were derailed both years.

Any suggestions on traveling to the Austin / San Antonio area? I'd appreciate your input. Thanks.

How D-Bag is not like George Washington #1

2012-01-13T08:12:00.000-05:00

I noted in a recent post that I am a history nerd. Because of my interest in history, I subscribe to a few history-related magazines. One of those magazines is produced by The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

Because I subscribe to their magazine, they sent me a little handout which listed George Washington’s rules of civility and decent behavior.

I was flipping through this handout this morning, and one of the rules caught my attention. Here it is:

Rule #88: Be not tedious in discourse, make not many digressions, nor repeat often the same manner of discourse.

Why did this rule catch my attention? Because it accurately describes how my co-worker D-Bag does NOT act in public.

D-Bag is very tedious. He talks at length about things no one cares about. If there is a conversation going on, he rushes over to be a part of it, and then basically stops it by talking over everyone and bringing up subjects that hold no interest for anyone but him.

A conversation with D-Bag is a long series of digressions. D-Bag shifts from topic to topic without a logical link or segue. Since D-Bag spews out words without a filter, it is like witnessing someone’s internal stream of consciousness.

The worst part of this rule that D-Bag is guilty of breaking, is the repetition thing. D-Bag repeats himself over and over. And over. And over. Every day. Every week. Every month. Every year. On and on. The same discussions. The same topics. It is so very tedious, which brings us back to the first part of this rule.

***

On a related note, D-Bag recently changed his work schedule to exactly match mine. Today is the end of the second week of working with D-Bag every minute of every work day. Good times.

The most irritating thing about D-Bag’s new schedule is watching him leave work at the same time I leave. Why? Because he arrives at work 15 minutes late every day, takes too much time for his lunch break, takes a bunch more other “breaks” for which he is not entitled, and to top it all off, he cruises around the department most of the day looking for someone foolish enough to listen to him ramble on and on.

It irritates me that he gets compensated for all the time he isn’t working, while I am working. In my book, he is stealing money from our employer, but nobody seems to care, except me. Our boss is oblivious to D-Bag’s time shenanigans. And if I bring it up, at least directly, our boss will think I am a jerk. I need to find a way to showcase D-Bag’s time infractions, in an indirect way. That is now one of my New Year’s resolutions. Petty? Yes, but I’ve taken about as much abuse from D-Bag as I can handle.

I feel the need for '80s cheese

2012-01-11T06:53:00.000-05:00

Most folks have regular New Year's resolutions; like losing weight, exercising more, dealing with stress better, or finishing a DIY project. But I am not normal.

Want to hear one of my New Year's resolutions? No? Too bad. Here it is... I want to add some '80s cheese music to my karaoke rotation.

What?! Yes, you heard me correctly. One of my goals for this year is to cheese-up my karaoke persona with some '80s rock/pop selections.

What '80s tunes am I currently thinking about trying out? Right now, I'm thinking about a couple Survivor tunes that came out on their 1984 Vital Signs album.... I Can't Hold Back and High on You.

I think Survivor got back on my karaoke radar after I recently watched the goofy Kevin James flick, Paul Blart: Mall Cop. The movie wasn't great, but the soundtrack is full of old hits. I Can't Hold Back was featured prominently in the movie.

Another contender for some '80s cheese is Jackson Browne's 1982 hit Somebody's Baby which was also on the soundtrack for the flick Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

Jackson Browne has been a favorite of mine for a long time, but I've never been able to feel comfortable doing his stuff for karaoke. I'm not sure why.

See? I am weird, right? Told you.

Happy New Year, I Ching

2012-01-09T19:42:00.001-05:00

I was fiddling around earlier this evening when I remembered I hadn't done an I Ching post since November. I Ching is probably unhappy with me about that. Well, what is done is done. Let's see what I Ching has to say.

I pulled the following card at random: Contemplation - Remain calm and focused. Sounds safe enough. Have I pulled this card before? It seems like it, but these I Ching cards all seem the same after a while. I looked back at previous posts and I didn't see it. Whatever.

I performed the three-coin toss. Here is the reading: For one who is young, a child's thought is harmless and innocent. For an adult this may cause regret.

Uh-huh. I am guessing that I Ching thinks I am acting childishly. Well, I Ching is probably right. I act pretty juvenile part of the time. The rest of the time, I am asleep.

Here is an explanation of the reading: There are times when attachment and responsibility are not so easy to get away from, as in a child's innocent play. There are other times when solutions that worked before will work no longer. These are the difficulties of the moment. Facing what is coming requires careful contemplation and planning. Guard against acting inappropriately and causing regret later. Take time to observe rather than jump to conclusions. Perseverance and endurance will provide a mature way out. Using force or other improper means is counterproductive.

Wow. That was a long explanation, and I'm not sure what I Ching is trying to tell me. Is something coming my way which will force me to contemplate and plan? Is I Ching worried that I will act inappropriately?

I think I am in trouble. I don't like to face what is coming. I like to run away. I tend to jump to conclusions. I like to put off all adult decisions until later, thereby attempting to delay regret too. But regret always finds me. Yes, it does. Also, I am not big on perseverance and endurance. I like to give up easily and take lots of naps. Yes, it seems trouble is on the horizon for Surly Scott. Thanks for nothing, I Ching.

Exploding eggs / I am not stalking you / Downton Abbey

2012-01-08T19:01:00.008-05:00

I seem to have a problem monitoring foods which are cooking. Remember the burned hot dogs? Anyway, every morning I have a hard boiled egg. This requires I boil eggs at some point. Around 11am this morning I started boiling a dozen eggs... then I forgot about them.

After running a couple fruitless errands this afternoon, I entered my house to find it filled with a burned smell. I went to the kitchen and found the eggs I had forgotten earlier. Some of them had actually exploded. I had burned egg bits all over my oven, counter, floor, the wall next to the oven, and the bottom of the cabinet over the oven. Nice.

Since I was out of hard boiled eggs, I needed to get more eggs. I had already done my weekly grocery shopping at my regular store earlier today, so I decided to go to another grocery store which I used to frequent. While there, I saw one of my exes. I'll call her Miss S. I had last seen Miss S at what had been my regular bar back in September.

Did I tell you that story? I don't think so. I'll keep it short, I promise.

When I saw Miss S last Fall, I decided to say hello. It seemed like the adult thing to do. She introduced me to her husband as a former co-worker. Hmmm. I guess it would have been awkward to introduce me as a guy who she shared a bed with for nine months. Oh, well. Then I slunk back to my barstool.

I had already put in a karaoke request to do Breakfast at Tiffany's by Deep Blue Something. If you don't know that song, well, it is kind of about breaking up with someone.

Miss S watched as I sang Breakfast at Tiffany's. It was uncomfortable. I didn't pick this song because of you, Miss S. You did break my heart, but it has been broken worse since, so don't flatter yourself.

After I sang that song I left the bar, since I didn't want Miss S to think I was stalking her, which I wasn't. Really.

Anyway, back to the present... Miss S was with her husband in the dairy section of the grocery store, which is right next to where they keep the eggs. I decided not to say anything. I tried to sneak past them to get my eggs, but I think Miss S saw me. I think I heard her say "Scott is over there," in a freaked out tone to her husband. I am not a stalker. Honest. Well, at least not in this case. Um, right.

Will the rest of my Sunday be better? I'm hopeful that this evening's season 2 premiere of Downton Abbey on Masterpiece Theater will be good.

About a year ago, I stumbled upon Downton Abbey while flipping through the TV channels. I was hooked immediately. Why? It is a period drama, with last season set in pre-WWI England. It seemed to be very well done with a number of twists and interesting characters. This season will be set during WWI. Yes, I am a big history nerd.

A history nerd who can't boil eggs? Miss S sure missed the boat when she dumped me, and once again, I am not stalking you, Miss S. Get over yourself.

I broke my sunburst

2012-01-04T23:09:00.001-05:00

So the other day I picked up a funky mid-century sunburst clock for either my dining room or living room. I continue to go for that mid-century feel for my clunky little mid-century house. I'm not sure why. Perhaps I am trying to remake my place into my parent's house circa when I was a tot.

This evening, while moving the sunburst from place to place to find the optimum location, it slipped from its wall fastener and dropped... breaking two of its arrows.

It appears I can easily repair one of the arrows, but the second one sheared off completely. It will need a complicated, detailed repair.

Just what I need, another little project to add to all the big projects I have. Great. Thanks, broken sunburst. You really brightened my day... not.

Assessing the damage

2012-01-01T09:29:00.000-05:00

I got up this morning and started some laundry. Then I trimmed my hair. Yes, I trimmed my own hair. What can I say? I am cheap. I also don't particularly enjoy people pointing out the fact that my hairline isn't what it was when I was 17. That happened the last time I let someone else cut my hair. And they wonder why I didn't let them cut my hair again? Really?

Anyway, with it being the first day of the new year and all, I decided to get on the scale. I know, I know, not a good decision with regard to my self-esteem, but I had to find out where I stood. I knew I had gained some weight over the last couple weeks... I was guessing 3 or 4 lbs.

Well, I got on the scale, and... I have gained 7 lbs over the last two weeks. Not good.

I guess eating 4 large pies in less than one week may have impacted my weight. I also suppose going on a pizza, bagels, and chips binge didn't help. Plus I got a bunch of snack stuff as gifts, most of which I ate immediately since I can't keep snacks in the house.

Winter is not the time of year that I can easily lose weight. If I starve myself, I am more susceptible to getting sick. Oh, well. I guess I need to get back to my "moderation" diet. Maybe I can lose those 7 lbs again by the time winter ends. We'll see. Goodbye, pies, pizza, bagels, chips, and other snacks. It was a fun two weeks, wasn't it?

Sit and eat in my kitchen? No way!

2011-12-27T19:09:00.002-05:00

I set up a small table and a pair of half booth seats in my kitchen after work today.

I'm not sure what to think about it. I had gotten used to eating in a chair in front of the TV, balancing a plate on my knees. It will take some time before I realize I can actually sit and eat at a table in the kitchen.

So much for this little victory. On to the next issue.

It's official - I've changed bars

2011-12-26T15:50:00.002-05:00

Last Friday, I thought I'd stop at my old bar. Because of the holiday, I figured some of the punks that normally hang out there would leave town because they are too young to spend the holiday on their own. I was right. When I strolled into the place it was deserted. A couple regulars were sitting at the far end of the bar, and there were four people sitting at a table in the corner waiting on the karaoke to start.

The two bartenders, JR and Leah, were leaning against the cash register, looking dejected because they had to work the day before Christmas Eve.

I walked up to the bartenders, and without me ordering, Leah turned and got me a Rolling Rock. I said, "Hello, how are things going?" But I got silence in return. Not even any eye contact.

I walked around to find a good spot to sit. Finally, after circling the entire bar, I sat at the front of the bar where I normally sit. It has the best vantage point for people watching during karaoke, but there is a downside... I would be sitting near the surly bartenders.

Normally when I go into this bar, even if there is a crowd, one of the bartenders would try to start some small-talk. Why not? They work mostly on tips, so they need to butter up their patrons.

I sat there just a few feet from the bartenders, and they didn't say a word. They didn't even glance at me. I did catch Leah checking my beer out to see if I needed another one, but that was it.

When I started hanging out at this bar about nine years ago, it was a friendly, dimly-lit, neighborhood dive bar. Now it has become a pretentious, well-lit, somewhat renovated joint where all the young hipsters want to hang out. The only time I see any of the neighborhood old-timers is before 8pm, or if there is a reason that the hipsters won't be there (like a holiday).

I didn't want to be there anymore. I finished my beer and went over to the old-folk's bar. The place wasn't packed, but there were more people there than at what had been my regular bar. There was only one empty barstool left at the bar, which I took. Denise the bartender said, "Hey, Scott! Good to see you," as she sat a Bud Light in front of me.

I sang a few karaoke tunes. Denise bought me a beer. I got hit on my some older chick.

I thought about it as I made my way home later that night. There is no longer any question...Yes, the old-folk's bar would officially be my regular bar. I might stop at the other place once in a while simply because I've been hanging out there for so long, and because I know several people who hang out there, but it would no longer be my first choice. Goodbye, Grandview Heights, it was fun, but it is time for me to move on. Thanks for the memories... or not.

Of course, I was right – both times

2011-12-20T10:49:00.001-05:00

Just like every family gathering I attend, I had several contentious and/or troubling conversations while at my family's holiday gathering this past weekend. Most of these I can’t talk about here, but there were two that caused me to do some research afterward. These two conversations seem safe enough, so I’ll blog about them.

The first one was with my Dad. I told him that I had seen a John Deere 420 tractor sell a couple weeks ago at an estate auction. My Dad claimed there was no such tractor ever made. I knew his claim to be false but I didn't argue. I got online the following day and verified my belief.

My Dad has been a farmer since WWII, and for a time he collected John Deere 2 cylinder tractors. In fact, he still has between 10 and 20 antique John Deere tractors sitting in his barn which he never touches. It is kind of sad to see these old tractors sit and rot, but Dad has lost the interest to work on them. Brother #3 has a couple antique John Deere tractors too. If I had the storage space, I wouldn't mind having one, but that isn't going to happen.

The John Deere 420 was the second smallest of the 2 cylinder 20 series tractors John Deere made from 1956 to 1958, with the smallest being the 320 and the largest being the 820. Within this 20 series, Dad still has two 520s and a 620, and my brother has a 720.

Way back when I was five, I learned to drive a tractor on a John Deere 520.

It was kind of sad to hear my Dad say John Deere never made a 420 tractor. He was an expert on all things John Deere, any farm equipment, anything else farm related, any kind of tree, weed, or plant. I expect him to not remember mundane things, like if he paid the electric bill or if Cousin Dave still has his old truck, but when he doesn't remember something that is important to him, that troubles me.

Because he doesn't hear well, I am hoping that he just didn't hear me correctly or he misunderstood what I was talking about.

The second conversation was with brother #3. Brother #3's youngest daughter was saying something about Mr. B, who is her Social Studies teacher in high school. I asked brother #3 if this was the same Mr. B who was a teacher back when we where in school. He said yes.

I was surprised to learn that Mr. B was still teaching at our old school, not because he is super-old, which he really isn't, but because he has been there for so long. He has been there for over thirty years and I figured he would have retired by now.

I recalled that Mr. B, who also attended our high school, would brag about being a member of the 1969 championship baseball team. Brother #3 claimed that Mr. B was too young for that, since he thought Mr. B had started teaching around 1980. He reasoned that subtracting 4 to 6 years for college, Mr. B would have graduated from high school no earlier than 1974, a full five years after 1969, and therefore he’d be too young to have been on that year's championship team.

Brother #3 believes he has total recall of all events real and imaginary. Although he is often wrong, to argue with him would be futile, so I dropped the subject.

Well, I looked online Sunday and found that Mr. B graduated in 1970, meaning he was a junior when he was on the 1969 championship team. Take that Brother #3! You are wrong... again! I just sent him an email to that effect. We'll see if he has a response.

Looks like I'll be living on pie

2011-12-18T19:18:00.002-05:00

I mentioned a couple weeks ago that I was buying some pies for the annual family holiday gathering... which occurred yesterday evening.

I brought two pumpkin, one pecan, one Dutch apple, and one banana cream. Why these pies? Well, for a holiday gathering, the pumpkin pies are a no-brainer, the pecan was specifically requested by a family member, the Dutch apple seemed to be a safe choice, and banana cream is one of my favorites and reminds me of mom. She made a killer banana cream pie. Heck, any pie she made was excellent. I even liked her weird rhubarb pie and her funky blackberry/cherry combo pie.

Anyway, nobody seemed to want pie. Maybe they knew I brought them and decided that anything I brought was crap... a reasonable assumption. Maybe everyone was too full from turkey, stuffing, and other food. Maybe nobody was in a pie mood (I'm ALWAYS in a pie mood). I'm not sure what happened.

I got rid of one of the pumpkin pies. I had one piece of the Dutch apple. That was it for pie consumption at our family gathering. I was most irritated by the person who requested the pecan pie... and then didn't have any of it.

Oh, well. I now have sitting in my refrigerator, most of four pies. Actually, less than that now, since I ate half of the banana cream pie earlier today.

It looks like I'll be eating pie for a while. I might even learn to like pecan pie, which is one variety that I never tried before. Why? When I was young I refused to eat anything with any kind of nut in or on it. I have since mellowed on my no-nut stance, but still cannot stand anything with peanut. In fact, if someone opens a jar of peanut butter within fifty feet of me, I instantly smell it and feel ill. No joke.

I'm about to go and have another piece of banana cream pie. It would be nice if somebody would stop me, since it would be for my own good. Anybody? No? Okay. Hello, banana cream pie. I've missed you.

Goodbye peaceful Friday afternoons / Hang Fire

2011-12-15T19:47:00.001-05:00

My Friday afternoons at work had been rather peaceful. Both D-Bag and my boss both worked half days on Friday, leaving the office at around 11am.

After 11am, my Fridays would be smooth sailing. Nobody would bug me. I could focus on whatever I felt needed accomplished without worrying that someone would question what I was working on.

Well, I found out earlier this week that D-Bag is changing his schedule to EXACTLY MATCH my schedule. WTF!?!?

Every moment I am at work, D-Bag will be there also. Oh, joy.

Why did he do this? Why is he ruining the few hours at work each week that I almost enjoy? Doesn't he realize that I can't stand him? I guess not. Perhaps he does and doesn't care, or maybe he'll get his jollies by infringing upon my Friday solitude.

* * *

On a completely unrelated note, I'm typing this as I listen to the Rolling Stones CD Rewind, which is a greatest hit compilation from 1971 to 1984. There is some good stuff here, including the catchy little tune Hang Fire.

I bought Rewind on Amazon for like a dollar months ago, and some of the reviews trashed the tune Hang Fire. I'm not sure why, as I like it. Maybe it doesn't fit in well with the other tunes on the disk, which are mostly edgy and/or bluesy.

I faintly recall an episode of the TV show Thirtysomething where Hang Fire was playing in the background at a New Year's party. I also seem to recall Elliot (Timothy Busfield) falling off his chair during said party. Ah, yes. Useless memories. I am full of them.

Holiday fail... again

2011-12-11T02:19:00.001-05:00

I really tried today. Well, I kinda tried. Maybe. Okay, I didn't try very hard. But I did try.

Try what? I tried to get into the holiday spirit today, that's what. But I came up short, just like every other time I try to get into it.

Last weekend I thought I had finished my holiday shopping. I had done some of my shopping online this year, thereby limiting my dealings with the psycho holiday shopping horde.

This morning I told myself I was going to get all my presents wrapped. But I needed to do laundry first. Then I wanted to do a little work on the kitchen remodel. Then it was time for lunch.

Finally, I got my pile of holiday purchases together. I got my wrapping paper, tags, tape, scissors, and other stuff together. I cranked up some holiday tunes starting with some Bing Crosby.

I got my list out and started verifying that I had everything. Sure enough, one of the items I had purchased online hadn't arrived yet. I got online and tried to check the shipping status, but couldn't get complete data... just an estimated delivery date of December 8th - 13th. Yes, today was the 10th... cutting it close there Amazon.

Okay. I'll just have to wait on that item and wrap that gift later.

I continued looking over the list. I had purchased some cookies from Cheryl's here in Columbus to give out to the sibs. Of course I had eaten about a third of the cookies since I bought them last weekend. I didn't have enough left to fill the gift boxes I had purchased.

I got my jacket on, turned off Bing, and headed to Cheryl's to get replacement cookies.

A little more than an hour later I got back home, turned Bing back on, ate a couple cookies (Oops!), and took another look at my list. I decided to start at the top of the list and start wrapping the gifts sequentially.

For the first person on the list, I had gotten a few small to medium sized items. I thought I could put all the items in a single box and wrap that... but I couldn't find a box that would work.

I got my jacket back on, turned off Bing, and headed to Big Lots to look at gift boxes.

Forty minutes later I got back home, put on a different holiday CD (a compilation of various artists, like Nat King Cole, Dean Martin, Lou Rawls, etc.), and placed the items in the gift box. It was too big. I had to cut it down. I got my scissors and some packing tape and fabricated a different sized box from the one I started with.

Finally, after twenty minutes of screwing around, I wrapped the gift.

My holiday energy was fading so I decided to take a break from wrapping gifts, although I had only successfully wrapped one gift.

I put on my jacket, turned off the holiday tunes, and went outside. I fiddled with the old V-Dub, got it started, and ran a couple errands.

I got back home maybe 90 minutes later. I decided to NOT put the holiday music back on. I wrapped a second gift with much less effort than the first, but my holiday energy was gone.

I decided to take a nap.

I woke up and it was dark, heck, it was nearly 11pm and my Saturday was shot.

I'll try to wrap most of the remaining presents tomorrow, but I've already got a long list of other things that I'd rather do. I can't put it off much longer, since the fam is getting together next weekend. Maybe my holiday energy will come back tomorrow (or really later today since it is after 2am as I type this), but I doubt it. Holiday fail, again. No surprises here.

Try Patsy Cline next time, grandma

2011-12-10T08:52:00.001-05:00

I stopped at the old folks bar last night. I only stayed about twenty minutes. Why such a short visit?

Well, shortly after I arrived, an older lady, probably about 75 or more, got up to sing. This in itself is no big thing. Lots of older folks do karaoke at the old folks bar. It was the song selection that got me.

Most of the karaoke attempted at the old folks bar is country, with some older pop stuff sprinkled in for good measure.

The older lady had selected You Dropped a Bomb on Me, a 1982 release from the funk group The Gap Band that had reached #2 on the R&B charts back in the day.

I actually kinda like that song. Well, I did, before I heard this lady sing it. There was something about her old-lady, screachy, crackly voice which made it clear that this was not a good song selection for her. When she belted out, "You turn me out, you turn me on," I nearly broke out laughing. The sad part was, she was trying her best, it wasn't a gag song. Since it is uncool to laugh at karaoke when somebody is being serious about the karaoke effort, I felt I had to leave.

Here are the lyrics, just in case you don't recall them:

You were the girl that changed my world

You were the girl for me

You lit the fuse, I stand accused

You were the first for me

But you turned me out, baby

You dropped a bomb on me, baby

You dropped a bomb on me (But you turned me on, baby)

You dropped a bomb on me, baby

You dropped a bomb on me

You were my thrills, you were my pills

You dropped a bomb on me

You turn me out, you turn me on

You turned me loose, then you turned me wrong

You dropped a bomb on me (But you turned me out, baby)

You dropped a bomb on me, baby

You dropped a bomb on me

Just like Adam and Eve, said youd set me free

You took me to the sky, Id never been so high

You were my pills, you were my thrills

You were my hope, baby, you were my smoke

You dropped a bomb, hey, babe

You dropped a bomb on me (But you turned me out, baby)

You dropped a bomb on me, baby

You dropped a bomb on me (But you turned me on, baby)

You dropped a bomb on me (You dropped a bomb on me, baby)

You dropped a bomb on me, baby

You dropped a bomb on me

We were in motion, felt like an ocean

You were the girl for me

You were the first explosion, turned out to be corrosion

You were the first for me

But you turned me out, baby

You dropped a bomb on me, baby

You dropped a bomb on me (Whoa...whoa...oh...oh...baby)

You dropped a bomb on me, baby

You dropped a bomb on me (I wont forget what you done to me, babe)

You dropped a bomb on me

You dropped a bomb on me, baby

You dropped a bomb on me

I-I-II-I-I wont forget it

You dropped a bomb on me, baby

You dropped a bomb on me

You dropped a bomb on me, baby

You dropped a bomb on me

I-I-II-I-I wont forget it

You turned me out, you turned me on

And then you dropped me to the ground

You dropped a bomb on me.

And then you dropped me to the ground

You dropped a bomb on me

You turned me out, you turned me on

And then you dropped me to the ground

You dropped a bomb on me

You turned me out, then you turned me on

You dropped a bomb on me

You turned me out, then you turned me on

You dropped a bomb on me

You turned me out, then you turned me on

You dropped a bomb on me

You turned me out, then you turned me on

You dropped a bomb on me

You turned me out, then you turned me on

You dropped a bomb on me

You turned me out, then you turned me on
You turned me out, then you turned me on
You turned me out, then you turned me on
You turned me out, you turned me on
I-I-II-I-I wont forget it
I-I-II-I-I wont forget it
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me, baby (Mmm)
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me, baby

Note to self: Once you get past the age of 70, do not attempt to sing any funk or rap tunes. It will make you look ridiculous, even more ridiculous than you normally look. You'll thank me later, older version of me. Now go and wrap those Christmas presents, just like an older person should.

Me-TV, where have you been all my life?

2011-12-08T19:03:00.003-05:00

About a month ago, I was searching for election results. It was an off-year election, so it wasn't getting as much news coverage as regular elections do. I noticed one of the local TV channels was airing an election special on a secondary channel it operated. I didn't even know this secondary channel existed. I knew my cable company had just added some extra channels to it's selection, but I hadn't bothered checking them out.

I watched the election coverage, but as I suspected they wouldn't predict the results until the polls were closed. When that special went off the air, The Mary Tyler Moore Show came on, followed by The Dick Van Dyke Show, followed by The Bob Newhart Show, followed by The Odd Couple. I hadn't seen any of these shows in years. What TV treasure trove had I stumbled upon?

It was Me-TV. Here is a list of shows Me-TV airs each weekday:

Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C.,

Dobie Gillis,

Love American Style,

Family Affair,

The Beverly Hillbillies,

Petticoat Junction,

I Love Lucy,

Daniel Boone,

Perry Mason,

Cannon,

Hawaii Five-O,

Gunsmoke,

Bonanza,

The Big Valley,

Kojak,

The Rockford Files,

The Rifleman,

M*A*S*H (R.I.P., Harry Morgan),

The Mary Tyler Moore Show,

The Dick Van Dyke Show,

The Bob Newhart Show,

The Odd Couple,

Cheers,

Taxi,

The Twilight Zone,

The Untouchables,

Twelve O'Clock High,

Combat!,

and Rawhide.

They air some other classic shows on the weekends, but I haven't investigated that in detail.

Since I've discovered Me-TV, I've been watching The Rockford Files every evening shortly after I get home from work. As I've discussed before, I believe it to be the best private investigator TV show ever (sorry Magnum).

I've also been regularly watching The Bob Newhart Show. Hmmm. I think I may have to throw together a future post focused just on The Bob Newhart Show. Yes, I think so.

More TV to watch... as if I needed to watch more TV. My home remodel will never get done. Ah, well.

Don't use the word Consensus when it isn't true

2011-12-06T23:55:00.001-05:00

Because of past events, I normally don't blog about family stuff. I'm going to make an exception today, but I'll probably delete this post later because certain people don't like it when I have an opinion.

According to the ancient dictionary I received for winning an Americanism award way back in High School, the word consensus is defined as general agreement : unanimity.

From that definition one may likely infer that everyone in the associated group agreed to something, or was at least involved in discussions about said something.

Monday morning I opened my Yahoo mail account to find an email from my sister who lives out West. She started her message by saying it was the consensus of our siblings that we all bring an assigned food dish to our upcoming holiday gathering, and then she handed out hypothetical food assignments to some of us. I was hypothetically supposed to "try my hand" at creating some kind of casserole.

This probably sounds like a fairly ordinary family email. I suppose it is. The problem I have about this email is that I was not involved in the preceding discussion. I was not part of the "consensus" so in my opinion the consensus was bogus in the first place.

In fact, per some emails I had received more than a week earlier, I assumed we were going to go out to eat at a local restaurant, and everybody was going to pay their own way. I was one hundred percent okay with this prior decision. We were going to do this to lessen the impact of the event on my Dad's house, and to therefore lessen the stress level on my Dad's wife. I suspected that certain sibs weren't happy about this because to them it wouldn't be the holidays without some crazy food extravaganza with an equally crazy cleanup effort afterward.

I was right. One or more of my sibs must have objected to the idea of eating out, then discarded the corresponding notion to lessen the stress level such an event would have on Dad's wife. Nice, but whatever. I'm generally okay with having the traditional meal thing at my Dad's too, as long as Dad and his wife are on board, but guess what... Dad wasn't copied on the email, so I guess they weren't involved in the revised decision either. Why the word "consensus" was used, I have no idea.

Anyway, I fired off an email saying I couldn't cook / bake anything because I don't have an oven. Yeah, yeah, I just got an oven less than a week ago, but they don't know this. Besides, I refuse to "try my hand" at cooking some ridiculous dish. Why would I want to risk making all my family members ill? Better that folks who know how to cook do the cooking.

Now I get to bring a bunch of pies to the gathering. Nice. I'll be out like seventy-five bucks or so for some pricey homemade pies I saw at a farmer's market, when I could have gotten by with spending $20 or so on a meal at a restaurant. Thanks, bogus consensus. You suck.

The wallpaper menagerie #2 / continued squalor

2011-12-05T02:10:00.000-05:00

One day last week, as I waited on delivery dudes to show up with my oven, I finally decided to rip out the wallpaper in my downstairs bathroom.

When was big, flowery wallpaper last in style? 1983? Was it ever? I'm not sure. You should know that I bought the place from a couple in their 90s. I'm sure they liked it.

Now I have nearly consistent tan colored walls (wallpaper backing) in the bathroom. Most people would think this is terrible, but I think it is an improvement. It looks like I've started working on the room, when in fact it'll probably be months or years before I actually start renovating the downstairs bathroom. Whatever.

One other thing... The upstairs bathroom is directly over the downstairs bathroom. Sometime during the preceding thirty or so years, there must have been a water leak upstairs. Somebody covered the resulting ceiling damage with some cardboard and then painted the cardboard patch white. Wow! Classy, right?

I foolishly decided to remove this nasty little patch. Now I get to look at a couple gross-looking, crusty holes in the ceiling whenever I walk into my downstairs bath. Yes, I continue to live in squalor. Deal with it.

My creepy quotient must be off the charts

2011-12-03T23:57:00.001-05:00

I've talked about being creepy to women. I've talked about being the creepy uncle. I talked about being a creepy old bachelor.

Now it seems I am so creepy, a female relative has asked that I stop giving her gifts for Christmas. Yes, that's right. My creepiness has reached a level where people feel uncomfortable receiving gifts from me, even though I've given this person gifts every year since she was born.

Something is wrong here, but I'm not sure it is my problem. Who tells another person that they should not get them a Christmas gift? I would understand if we were a couple, and our relationship had ended or had become one-sided, but that isn't the case here. We are relatives... we share blood. I didn't choose to be this person's relative... it is what it is.

Ah, well. At least there is one less person to buy a gift for. I thought my family's holiday gatherings were awkward before; now they will be even worse. The holidays... fun times... not.

My kingdom for an oven

2011-11-29T11:08:00.000-05:00

After living nearly five years oven-free, I now have an oven again.

I took the day off work and just had a cheapo Kenmore unit delivered. I am cooking the first frozen pizza I've had in nearly five years as I type this. A Tony's pepperoni, if you must know.

I plan on constructing a built-in to the right of the oven to fill in the empty space with leftover materials I had from building the counter.

My kitchen is starting to look like a kitchen again. If people walk through my kitchen, they might think an almost normal person lives here.... until they see the rest of the house.

Ah, well. My pizza is done and I am hungry. Bye.

Do our tastes change as we age?

2011-11-28T00:31:00.001-05:00

I was cutting coupons the other day. Cutting coupons? Me? Yes, I do that. I'm cheap. What can I say.

Anyway, I was cutting coupons and I came across a coupon for some ketchup.

I haven't owned a bottle of ketchup in maybe seven years or so. Maybe fifteen years ago, I used the stuff on everything, but now I never use it. Maybe once in a blue moon I put a little on some fries if I'm eating at some low-brow joint, but other than that, I haven't used the stuff in ages.

The last bottle of ketchup I had, I had to throw out back in 2004 because it was probably three years old and stuff was growing in it.

Why do I no longer like ketchup? I used to like it. Do our tastes change as we age?

I cut out the ketchup coupon and put it with the others. Maybe soon I'll have a hankering for some ketchup. You never know.

I know it is almost Thanksgiving because...

2011-11-22T23:23:00.000-05:00

... my furnace crapped out. Again. This has happened around Thanksgiving before.

I suspect that my furnace really likes Thanksgiving; it seems to consistently want time off around this holiday. Maybe it's spirit goes off and visits with it's ancestors in furnace heaven.

I'm not sure what my furnace's deal is, but I'm getting sick of it.

Because of the holiday, the HVAC techs won't be able to get the part to repair the furnace until next week. Thanks, Turkey Day. Time to get some extra blankets and sweatshirts out of storage. I'm gonna need 'em.

At long last: A kitchen floor

2011-11-20T18:14:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted anything in a week. What have I been doing? Don't worry, I've been busy. Doing what? Working on my kitchen floor, that's what.

Earlier today, at about 9:05am, I finally laid the final piece of floor tile in my disaster of a kitchen. After I sweep up the filler dust, I should be able to walk into my kitchen barefoot without concern of what I may be stepping on, for the first time in about four years.

I felt pretty good about this feat, for about thirty seconds, when I realized I need to install wall base around the perimeter of the kitchen to fill in the gaps between the wall and the tile edge. I hope to complete that over the upcoming Thanksgiving weekend.

Then I realized that I need to go through all the cabinets and install contact paper or something similar before I start moving kitchen stuff back into the kitchen.

Then I realized that I need to fix two outlets, one of which is the oven 240v outlet, that I had somehow damaged during the last eighteen months or so since I installed them, before I purchase and install an oven.

Then I realized I need to patch several paint scrapes, seal the countertop edges, and install some trim before I can really use the countertop.

Oh, well. I've still got plenty of work waiting for me in the kitchen. Just for today, I let myself celebrate this little milestone by taking an afternoon nap. WhooHoo!

I think I am an ageist

2011-11-13T17:00:00.001-05:00

I went out last night... to the old-folks bar. It arrived later than normal, at about 11pm. I just wanted to have a beer or two and do a little karaoke.

There was a younger chick sitting on the other side of the bar. I leered at her for a while, but I knew I didn't exist in her world. I am used to that. No biggie.

As the night wore on and I sat at the bar sipping my beer, an older woman kept giving me the eye. I turned away repeatedly. I shifted in my barstool so I wouldn't look in her direction. I was super uncomfortable. I'm not sure why I did these things.

The older woman in question was... attractive. She had a pretty face and a rockin' bod, but I didn't want to have anything to do with her. This lady was possibly prettier than any woman I have ever dated, so why did I act this way?

The only answer I can come up with is that I am an ageist. This lady was probably a solid ten years or more older than me, and her resulting age seemed to make her undateable in my mind. This type of thinking does not bode well for me. Why? Number 1, I rejected a woman who is more attractive than anyone I've ever been with. This is foolish, no matter what her age. Number 2, I am not getting any younger, but for whatever reason I continue to be attracted to the same type and age of women that I was attracted to ten or more years ago. This has to change, if only for the reason that there aren't many young chicks living in retirement homes where I'll probably end up. Number 3, I am becoming a regular at the old-folks bar (the bartender, owner, and KJ all know me - in my book that makes me a regular there), and guess what kind of folks normally go to the old-folks bar? That's right. Older women and older guys. If I can't interact better with folks a bit older than me, then I should just stay home.

I have decided that I must change my ways. If an attractive older lady is into me, then I should just go with it. Period. End of story. Just as long as she isn't TOO old. Um, wait. Maybe I just need to give this new idea some time to settle in my noggin. That's it. Um, right.

Note to self: Do not wait 4.75 years to clean refrigerator again

2011-11-12T19:19:00.004-05:00

I have been slowly installing floor tile in my kitchen. I finished the spot where the refrigerator should go. I also installed wall base material behind where the refrigerator should go to cover any gaps between the floor tile and the wall itself.

I emptied the refrigerator, including all the shelves and trays so it wouldn't be as heavy, and moved it to it's new spot in the kitchen.

Then I looked at the inside of the refrigerator. There was a layer of brown goo at the bottom of the refrigerator. I had noticed the stuff a couple years ago, but I am a guy and we don't like to clean stuff. Then I realized that I hadn't cleaned the refrigerator since I bought it in February 2007, or 4.75 years. Nice.

I have no idea what the goo was. I needed a putty knife to remove it. Good times.

After I had cleaned the refrigerator, during which I used most of a container of Formula 409 and 1.5 rolls of paper towels, I started putting stuff back in it. There was a jar of apple sauce. I wasn't sure how old the apple sauce was, and I said to myself, "I should probably throw that stuff out."

Then I opened the jar. What did I find? Some nice little mold colonies. Excellent. Goodbye apple sauce.

So. I went 4.75 years without cleaning my refrigerator. Not bad. I've gone one, two, and perhaps even three years between refrigerator cleanings before, but I believe 4.75 years is a record for me. I wonder how much a maid service would cost?

No! Not Judi Dench's dress!

2011-11-11T23:27:00.003-05:00

As indicated in my last post, I saw the DiCaprio flick J. Edgar today. It was an 11am showing, but the theater was packed, mostly with older folks.

With about twenty minutes or so left in the film, something went wrong with the projector. It appeared that the film had gotten stuck, then it looked like it was burned by the projector bulb. The crowd sat there for about ten minutes while the theater folks fiddled with their equipment. I got a free pass to another film for my trouble.

Anyway, about the movie, I kinda liked it. It was dry; tastefully done by Clint Eastwood with regard to some of the subject matter in Hoover's life. They only showed Hoover in female garb once, right after his mother (played by Judi Dench) died... in her dress. The Tolson character was portrayed as the blatantly homosexual of the couple, with Hoover portrayed as a man afraid of his sexuality.

The film focused on Hoover's early career plus the last few years of his career, ignoring about thirty years in between. The film jumped back and forth between the young and old Hoover a bit too much for my taste, but whatever.

I'd probably give the film three stars out of five. If you are a fan of period films, a history buff, or are simply interested in the subject matter, then go see it. Otherwise, I'd advise seeing something else.

One movie down, one to go

2011-11-10T21:40:00.000-05:00

I like movies, but I don't go to the theater very often. Why? It seems depressing to me to go to the theater alone.

After work today, I decided to check out the Johnny Depp flick, The Rum Diary.

There was only one other person in the theater with me; some dude who coughed a lot and used his phone a couple times. I thought that activity was prohibited. Oh, well. I guess he thought since there was only one other person watching the movie, he didn't need to be courteous.

I'm no big Johnny Depp fan, but I think he is well suited for certain roles. As long as he isn't cast as a tough guy, like he was in the mobster flick Donnie Brasco, I think he usually does a decent job. Why do I think Depp shouldn't be cast as a tough guy? Well, since I feel I could kick his ass, and I'm no tough guy, I don't believe he can realistically portray a tough guy.

Regarding The Rum Diary, I liked parts of it, but overall it seemed disjointed. The story jumps around a bit, there is no resolution to several of the plot lines, and Depp's love interest, Amber Heard, well, I think she is overrated. To me, she seemed like just another skinny blond chick. I got more excited over the car Depp was driving, a 1959 Corvette, than over Heard. I'm starting to think maybe I should look into buying a 1950s-1960s Corvette. I know they are outrageously priced, but they are at the top of the American classic car food chain.

Again, I liked parts of the story, I enjoy period films (it was set in 1960), some of the shots (Puerto Rico) were very nice, the rest of the cast (Aaron Eckhart, Giovanni Ribisi, and Michael Rispoli) were good, and it was loaded with plenty of old cars from the 1950s.

If I had to give The Rum Diary a rating, I'd probably give it 2.5 stars. No ringing endorsement, but it wasn't a total suckfest either. Proceed at your own peril.

So, I was thinking I might catch DiCaprio's latest flick, J. Edgar, tomorrow afternoon. One movie down, one to go. Another period film. I can't wait.

Thanks, Craigslist

2011-11-06T17:12:00.000-05:00

This afternoon I got on Craigslist and looked through some of the "Strictly Platonic" posts. Normally, the posts in this category are kinda creepy and not really platonic at all, but I noticed one there that seemed okay.

I didn't respond to the post noted above because I felt I didn't meet the lady's listed requirements (that I be attractive, intelligent, etc), but I thought I could prepare a similar post and see if I got any responses.

I crafted a message about mac & cheese. Who doesn't like mac & cheese? I even got a pic ready to upload.

I started the process to get my message posted. This is when I learned that I had to submit a valid phone number to get my post "authorized." I contemplated giving up, but I continued onward. I submitted my phone number, and Craigslist was supposed to send me a text with an authorization code prior to placing my message on their website.

I waited for my text. It didn't arrive. I tried again, but then I received an on-line message stating my "phone number could not be verified."

Okay. I guess I won't be posting anything on Craigslist any time soon. It is probably for the best. A few hours from now I would've changed my mind and deleted the post. Thanks for nothing, Craigslist.

The mystery mail good Samaritan

2011-11-02T20:59:00.001-04:00

I was on the road for work last week, and stayed near the jobsite at a hotel. I placed my house lights on a timer, and I parked my truck in the driveway to make it look as if someone was home.

I normally don't get enough mail during the week to justify halting my mail temporarily, or to bug someone to check my mail while I'm gone.

Well, last week I got a bunch of mail. Plus, I had three packages delivered for which I had been waiting on for weeks and weeks.

The UPS guy placed the packages out of sight, so no problem there.

My problem is with the mail. Somebody, I don't know who, placed some of my mail on a stack behind my house. I suspect my mailbox was overflowing, and they decided to do me a favor.

Well, I guess I am thankful for their help. The problem with their act of kindness is that they let my mail sit out in the elements, and it rained a couple days last week. There were a couple bills in there which I had to dry out, surgically open the return envelope, and then tape the return envelope back together before mailing it back out.

So why couldn't the mystery mail good Samaritan simply have gone a couple steps further by 1) picking up my mail and 2) dropping the mail off when I got back? It seems that is what I have done when I picked up my neighbor's mail in the past. It seems odd to me to secretly move somebody's mail. Isn't screwing around with somebody's mail against the law or something? Whatever. I'm just wondering what folks think about this. Thanks.

I Ching thinks I will abuse my power?

2011-11-01T18:56:00.002-04:00

Another month has begun and it is time, once again, to check out what I Ching has in store for me.

I pulled the following card at random: Military - Use organization and strategy. Hmmm, I'm not sure I like that card, especially since it has a bunch of dudes brandishing weird swords.

I performed the three coin toss. Here is the reading:

Military strategy comes from discipline and timely movement. If not well orchestrated, misfortune happens.

I am not very disciplined, and my movements are never timely. It looks like I am headed for misfortune. Great.

Here is the explanation of the reading:

This message suggests that you keep your cool and wait for the opportune moment. Organization is the key to the chain of order and action. Things can be risky, no matter how careful your planning. Do not take things for granted or abuse power, or you will bear the consequences later. Keep your eyes open.

Well, at work, I've been dealing with D-Bag a lot, and it has been difficult keeping my cool. Last week he and I had a couple heated exchanges, but each following day I resolved to deal with him as best I could. Just this morning I had a meeting with my boss and my boss's boss. D-Bag was supposed to be there too, but he forgot. As we waited for D-Bag, my boss and my boss's boss both shared that they are getting frustrated with D-Bag's shenanigans. Maybe there is hope yet on that front.

I Ching also mentioned something about not abusing my power. Power? What power? I think I Ching has me confused with someone higher on the org chart, but I will continue to keep my eyes open. Timely advice, as always. Thanks, I Ching.

P.S. - This is the third post in a row that I've mentioned D-Bag. Sorry about that. Maybe my next post will be about some drinking and/or karaoke. I feel the need to go out this weekend and get my drink on. We'll see what happens.

Just another day with D-Bag

2011-10-26T23:42:00.003-04:00

Monday, 3pm – My boss and my boss’s boss are onsite with D-Bag and I. My boss’s boss directs me to work on task A and directs D-Bag to work on task B.

Monday, 4pm – My boss and my boss’s boss leave the worksite and won’t be back until Wednesday.

Monday, 4:05pm – D-Bag decides he doesn’t want to work on task B since he would rather work on task A. I remind D-Bag that he has been assigned to work on task B. He doesn’t listen.

Monday, 4:10pm – 5:10pm – Every 30 seconds, D-Bag asks me questions about task A. Since I am trying to get along with D-Bag, I try to be helpful, but all these questions are slowing my progress towards completing task A.

Monday, 5:12pm – D-Bag and I leave the worksite for the day.

Tuesday, 7:30am – 11:00am- D-Bag continues to struggle to understand task A. He asks questions every 30 seconds plus I walk thru what needs to be done several times in detail.

Tuesday, 11:05am, I remind D-Bag that he was assigned to work on task B. He ignores me.

Tuesday, 11:10am – 5:10pm - D-Bag continues to struggle to understand task A. After several hours of this activity, my tolerance is wearing thin. I remind D-Bag that he was assigned to work on task B. He ignores me.

Tuesday, 5:15pm – D-Bag and I leave the worksite for the day. As we walk towards our cars, we compare our progress on task A. Progress on task A can be measured in units completed. I have completed ten units. D-Bag has yet to complete one unit.

Wednesday, 7:30am – D-Bag and I arrive at the worksite. D-Bag starts asking questions about task A again. I remind D-Bag that he was assigned to work on task B, and our bosses would be onsite shortly to check on our progress. He ignores me.

Wednesday, 8:00am – My boss and my boss’s boss arrive onsite. They quiz us on our progress on tasks A and B. I note that I have completed ten units related to task A. D-Bag states he hasn’t started task B since he has been “checking” my work on task A. My boss’s boss directs D-Bag to start working on task B.

Wednesday, 8:30am – D-Bag asks me a series of questions about task A. It is clear that he is still working on task A and not working on task B. My boss’s boss notices this but says nothing.

Wednesday, 9:30am – D-Bag again asks me some questions about task A. My boss’s boss interrupts and asks D-Bag how task B is progressing. D-Bag states that he is still working on task A, and will change tasks when he gets to a good stopping point. My boss’s boss, now a little upset, directs D-Bag to stop working on task A and start working on task B.

Wednesday, 10am – D-Bag sends me an email, asking questions about task A. I do not respond.

Wednesday, 11:45am – D-Bag, my boss and I go to lunch. D-Bag continues asking questions about task A because our boss’s boss does not join us.

Wednesday, 12:00pm – I ask my boss how long this current assignment is going to last. My boss states he has no idea how long this assignment will last. I had been hoping that this assignment would only last one week, but it looks like it will last three or four more weeks.

Wednesday, 12:35pm – We get back to the worksite. I go to our work area, while D-Bag searches for some coffee. I am fed up with D-Bag. I tell my boss’s boss about D-Bag’s continuing efforts on task A.

Wednesday, 12:40pm – D-Bag gets back to the work area. My boss’s boss quizzes D-Bag about what he is working on. D-Bag states he has just completed his first unit relating to task A, and has started working on his second task A unit. My boss’s boss, now clearly upset, removes all task A materials from D-Bag’s workspace, and gives them to me. My boss’s boss asks me about my progress on task A; I have completed about 17 task A units.

Wednesday, 2pm – The client walks into our work area. D-Bag starts talking with the client about task A. My boss’s boss shakes his head and leaves the room. I become even more fed up with D-Bag because he is making promises to the client about work that I must complete.

Wednesday, 3:30pm – I review the only unit of task A work which D-Bag “completed.” It is not complete. I throw out D-Bag’s work and redo the unit in question. I complete the botched unit in 40 minutes. D-Bag had struggled with that same task A unit for over 14 hours.

Wednesday, 4pm – My boss and my boss’s boss leave the worksite for the day.

Wednesday, 4:05pm – D-Bag wants to know if I looked at the task A work he had completed. I say yes, but also say I had to completely redo it. D-Bag accuses me of “corrupting” the work he had completed, as he feels he is the best at anything he tries to do. I finally snap at D-Bag. We argue. He stomps back to his workspace. We do not talk for over an hour.

Wednesday, 5:10pm – D-Bag and I leave the worksite for the day. As we walk toward our cars, I attempt to start some light conversation unrelated to work. D-Bag again accuses me of “corrupting” his work. I walk away. I’ve had enough for one day.

So. I will probably be on the road with D-Bag for three or four more weeks. I will probably have to do most of the work, since I can complete 17 times more work than he can complete. His lack of ability will force us to be on the road longer than necessary. I really, really doubt I will survive another three or four weeks on the road with him. I don't really expect any suggestions here. I just needed to share this D-Bag story with someone. If you managed to follow this entire post, thanks for reading.

P.S. - D-Bag and my boss's boss are buddies, so I know D-Bag isn't going to suffer any repercussions for his poor performance. I thought that nugget was important to share, since D-Bag lives in a world free of consequences.

Two unrelated thoughts about Crazy Train

2011-10-24T22:33:00.002-04:00

Number 1: I am on the road with D-Bag this week. For whatever reason, my boss believes we work well together, or perhaps I am the only other person who hasn’t threatened to quit if paired with D-Bag on an assignment. I’ve been playing nice with D-Bag for a couple weeks and it is driving me insane. I even had dinner after work with him this evening! If I have not boarded a crazy train, then I don't know what a crazy train is. I don’t believe I will survive this assignment. Help!

Number 2: Why did Honda choose Crazy Train as the song in their new commercial for their Pilot SUV? Are people who purchase Honda Pilots crazy? Also, Crazy Train is a tune released in 1980. Sure it was a popular song back in the day, but I doubt that all the folks from that commercial riding in the Honda Pilot (Mom, Dad, and I think three kids) know the lyrics and melody from that tune. It seems that at least the kids might be more interested in current tunes and not have Ozzy memorized. Just an observation.

I guess my smoke alarms ignore burning hot dogs

2011-10-21T00:15:00.001-04:00

I took a nap earlier. As I awoke, I heard a faint crackling noise. Then I noticed a smell, like something was burning.

I flipped on the light. There was smoke filling the room. My still sleep-drunk brain tried to process what was going on.

I staggered through the house. The sound of crackling got louder. The smoke was getting thicker.

I got to the kitchen and flipped on the light. There on a burner was a cooking pot with smoke rolling out of it. I walked over and pulled the pot off the burner. There was a mass of burned something at the bottom of the pot.

I finally started to remember what had happened earlier.

I hadn't slept well the night before. I got maybe one or two hours sleep total. I struggled through my day at work and made my way home. I had some soup, turned on the TV, and watched the last hour of the weird movie District 9.

I was still hungry after eating my soup, so during a commercial break I decided to cook some hot dogs. I put some water and hot dogs in a cooking pot and placed it on a burner.

When the movie ended I was exhausted. I tried to watch the local news but I kept nodding off. I turned off the TV, lurched to my room, and crashed on the bed, all while the water in the cooking pot boiled away. At some point no water remained, and the hot dogs were burned into an unrecognizable mass.

So. I have multiple smoke alarms in my house which I test once a month. None of them sounded. Just how much smoke is needed for the alarms to sound? I tested them a couple minutes ago and they sounded.

I've burned food before and the smoke alarms have sounded. Are smoke alarms impervious to smoke from burning hot dogs? Are hot dogs so full of weird chemicals that when they burn their smoke is different from other burning food? If so, I may be in trouble. I eat hot dogs regularly. This may be the way I kick the bucket. Be alert for headlines regarding a dude dying in a hot dog fire. If I don't post within a week or two after that, you'll know it was me.

Too dull to drink?

2011-10-18T19:35:00.000-04:00

Last Thursday night I dropped-off my ailing Jetta at the VW repair place in my old neighborhood and walked over to my regular bar.

The place was packed. I’m too old to deal with large crowds of twenty-somethings, so I walked back outside and called a cab.

I then walked back to the front door. K-Girl and the KJ were standing there smoking. I talked to them awhile and then K-Girl went back inside, as she was bartending. Since K-Girl was sober, it was clear she wasn't into me like during my Too Easy episode from last year.

I waited for my cab, but it didn't come. I walked back in the bar and found an empty barstool. Bartender W-Girl asked if I wanted a beer, but I said no. I talked to a couple other folks, and one of them offered to buy me a drink, but I again said no.

I noticed my cab pull up in front of the bar, so I walked outside, jumped in the cab and went home.

I wasn't tired. I wasn't sick. I just didn't feel like having a beer. This is really sad. Have I become so boring that I can't even sit in a bar and have a drink? I've gotten to the point where I refuse free drinks? I'd rather sit at home and watch Prime Suspect on TV? What has happened to me?

Perhaps this weekend the beers may flow. Another chance at debauchery and perchance to redeem myself. We will see.

It seems there is no happily ever after for chicks I like

2011-10-12T11:55:00.001-04:00

Recently, I stopped at a bar & grill not far from my hometown to get a burger, some fries, and a coke. While I was waiting on my food, I heard a familiar laugh from across the room. It sounded like Kim, a bartender I knew from years ago. I’ve posted a couple other stories on this blog in which Kim was mentioned here and here.

I decided to investigate. I walked over to where I had heard the familiar laugh. There was a seedy looking group of people there sitting around a table. At the corner of the table closest to me was a lady that may have been Kim.

Just as I was considering whether to tap this lady on the shoulder, she stood up and started walking towards the bar to get another pitcher of Pabst Blue Ribbon (Classy, right? Nope.). It was Kim.

The years had not been kind to her. She had gained lots of weight, her hair was messed-up, her skin was blotchy, and she had a glazed/crazy look in her eye.

I have seen that look before. I’m no expert, but it looked like Kim was a druggie.

I stopped in my tracks and turned slowly, trying to avoid Kim’s field of vision. It was too late; Kim had seen me.

Kim changed direction and started walking towards me. She said, “Is that you Scott? It is! Wow! You haven’t changed much.” Kim smiled and I saw her drug-rotted teeth.

I said, “Kim, how are you? Wow! It has been a long time.”

We traded small talk for a little while, and Kim introduced me to her druggie friends. I found out that Kim had lost custody of her children, all five of them.

The cook announced that my food was ready. I picked up my food, made an excuse, and got the hell out of that place.

It appears that I picked another winner of a gal. Why is my taste in women so poor?

End of summer blues and an I Ching update

2011-10-06T19:36:00.003-04:00

Hello. I thought I'd check in on the blog today. Whoa. It has been a week since my last post? Really? I guess there isn't much going on here worth reporting. I haven't been out on the town in about three weeks, so no drama there. I've been trying to get along with D-Bag at work, so I've been able to reduce the drama there too. I think Mr. Wonderful's wife hurt herself recently, so I haven't seen him around as much, so that drama hasn't been an issue lately either.

What have I been doing if I don't have much drama to contend with? Well, projects at work have been gearing up, so I expect to be on the road soon. I've been reluctantly working on my kitchen floor, and I might have about one third of the kitchen floor tiled now. I've also been trying to get my various summer projects to a point where I can cleanly put them on hold until next spring.

The first half of October is normally a busy time; rushing around during the last few warm days dealing with storm windows, painting window sashes, caulking gaps here and there, and prepping the vehicles for colder weather too. The second half of October will be busy with raking leaves and clearing the gutter. What fun.

Well, since I'm posting something I may as well check in with I Ching too. I pulled a card at random - Positioning - Assume the proper stance. That's an odd card to pull. It reminds me of the phrase, "assume the position." Is I Ching getting fresh with me? Is I Ching going to whack me with a paddle? I'm not sure I like that card. Oh, well. Tough crap for me.

Here is the reading:

One elects to remain calm. Good.

Wow. That is short and sweet. I was expecting something overtly negative. I do try and remain calm, at least most of the time. Thanks for noticing, I Ching.

Here is the explanation of the reading:

Here you are clearly using your head and being commended for it. By maintaining calm, inside and out, serious thought can be engaged in that will alleviate distress. Something good will come of calmly being able to gain a clearer picture of what is going on. When too many things are going on, one can easily get confused and subscribe to an ill-advised plan.

Well, I was in a meeting earlier today and my boss's boss commended me for something or other. So that is something. I guess. I must say that I'd rather not engage in serious thought. I am a simpleton, so it is best for me to keep things clearly defined. It seems I Ching knows me pretty well in that regard since the reading seems to indicate I get distracted and/or confused easily. It is true! Don't wave any shiny objects in front of me while I'm driving, or there will likely be an accident. I'm just sayin'. Also, I'm all about subscribing to ill-advised plans. Is there any other type of plan? Not in my world. Whatever. Thanks, I Ching. You are the tops, as always.

I hope the second one lasts as long as the first

2011-09-29T10:47:00.000-04:00

Earlier this month, I finally retired my old Jeep and replaced it with a slightly newer Jeep with low-ish miles. This replacement has been a struggle for me. I’m not sure why, but the price for old Jeeps seems to have gone up over the past couple years.

Back during the Fall of 2009, I passed on a couple Jeeps that I probably should’ve purchased. When I started looking at used Jeeps again earlier this year, I found the prices had risen. I was still looking at the same models and years as I had during 2009, so I expected the prices would have gone down. Nope. These Jeeps were two years older, and all had racked up two more years of mileage, but somehow the prices had gone up. It didn’t make sense to me. Whatever.

It seems when someone purchases something that wears well, then replaces that item with a newer version of the same something, the second something usually doesn’t wear as well as the first something. I have found this rule to be true of various items (jeans, appliances, shoes, tools, etc), but I hope this Jeep wears as well as my old Jeep did. I suppose that will be a hard order to fill since I owned the old Jeep for a dozen years and it was worn out when I bought it. Plus I ran it out of oil once ten years ago, but it never let me down or required any major engine service.

Please, newer Jeep, I ask that you last at least half as long as my old Jeep did with about the same amount of service. Is that too much to ask?

The End for R.E.M.?

2011-09-23T08:18:00.000-04:00

I learned yesterday morning that the band R.E.M. has broken up. My understanding is that it was more an issue with their label, Warner Brothers, than any internal issues.

So one of my favorite bands from the ‘80s is no more. Am I sad about it? Not really. I haven’t listened to anything new they’ve released in a decade or more, so I guess it isn’t a big deal to me.

I took a look at my CD inventory and found that I had more R.E.M. CDs (six) than any other band. Well, actually R.E.M. was tied with U2 for that honor. Who came in second? I have five CDs each from Van Halen and The Eagles. After that? I have four CDs from Journey and, um, this is embarrassing, from Gloria Estefan. Um, yeah. What can I say? I like latinas.

Here are the R.E.M. CDs that I have:

Murmur from 1983,

Green from 1988,

Eponymous from 1988,

Out of Time from 1991,

Automatic for the People from 1992,

and finally Monster from 1994.

Thanks, R.E.M., for providing plenty of cool tunes over the years. I have a feeling you guys will be back.

Don’t fly too low over the ghetto

2011-09-21T11:07:00.000-04:00

So. I had an unannounced out-of-towner visit my home recently. I’m not sure why this person stopped. We aren’t very close.

It was the first time this person has been to my home. I also think his/her expectations were a bit unrealistic. This person has known me for many years… I am not high class. I am quite the opposite. I ask you, is there any doubt about my low-class nature?

Let’s get down to the actual visit.

First, as this person walked through my front door, he/she made a negative comment about the neighborhood in which I live. I admit, it isn’t the greatest neighborhood, but it is better than some. This comment seemed odd since this visitor hails from the mean streets of a major east coast city, in fact, he/she comes from an actual inner city where one has to step over empty crack pipes and walk past pimps and whores on a daily basis. There is none of that where I live. Sure, I might have to pick up the occasional stray Burger King wrapper or other random trash object off my yard, but I’ve gotten used to it.

Second, this visitor didn’t want to get too far from a window so he/she could “keep an eye on my rental car.” Um, okay. I rarely even lock my car, and have yet to have that kind of problem here, but you go right ahead and continue to insult me and my neighborhood. No problem.

Third, even though I have regularly communicated to this person about the state of disrepair my house is in, this person was shocked at how I live. Here is a transcript from part of our conversation (my responses only): “Um, that’s right, the kitchen floor tile has been removed. Sorry that you can see the sub-floor. I’ll get right on that. Sorry, again. Why yes, the wallpaper in that room looks to be from the 1970s. Sorry about that. I know it offends your fashion sensibilities. Please forgive me. What’s that? Oh, yes. There was a water leak sometime over the past fifty years which caused a water mark on the ceiling. I haven’t gotten to that yet. I know it is troubling. Sorry.” And on and on it went.

Fourth, this person refused to look over my basement. I know it is just a basement, but my house is small, so the basement is a significant part of my house. Either this person was concerned about not being able to see his/her rental car for the few minutes it would have taken to walk through the basement, or this person was concerned that I would clunk him/her over the head and dispose of his/her body down there. Maybe it was a real possibility. I have been known to display a temper now and then.

Fifth, this person started to lecture me about owning property, property values, and the old adage, “location, location, location.” Again, this seems odd to hear from someone who lives in an actual ghetto, and not the pseudo-ghetto where I live. Sorry, kind visitor, but I bought this place before the housing market tanked. If I would have known that was going to happen, I never would have bought this place. Again, sorry to disappoint you.

Finally, after I declined an offer to visit a pretentious restaurant in a pretentious part of town, my visitor rushed to his/her car and burned rubber to get away. I guess the next time I visit this person, I’ll need to brush up on my neighborhood / home insults. I think it is only fair.

The grudge holder

2011-09-19T10:48:00.000-04:00

Some folks don’t hold grudges. They either are oblivious to perceived slights, or they let them slide off without letting the resulting negativity fester. I wish I was more like them. Other folks hold grudges forever. I suppose I am somewhere in the middle; I hold grudges, but they normally flame out after a suitable time period passes which seems commensurate with the perceived offense.

Recently, I was talking with someone that I rarely speak with. It was clear to me that this person was upset with me, but I had no idea why. Finally, I asked what the problem was. After some back and forth, it was revealed that this person had been holding a grudge against me because of a handful of incidents from years past.

The oldest item on this person’s grudge list against me was from 1987. That isn’t a typo, it was really from 1987! It seems that this person’s spouse had called my parent’s house looking for the grudge holder. I answered the phone and told his/her spouse that grudgey wasn’t there. That was the extent of the conversation.

Well, it seems that the grudge holder’s spouse’s car had broken down hundreds of miles from home, but the grudge holder’s spouse didn’t relate that information during the phone call in question.

I tried to reason with grudgey by asking how I could have known grudgey’s spouse was having car issues if his/her spouse didn’t share that information during the phone conversation. This bit of reason didn’t matter to grudgey; somehow I had dropped the ball and caused grudgey’s spouse unnecessary stress. I guess I needed to be a mind reader to avoid being placed on the grudge holder’s list.

The other items on grudgey’s list were from 1997, 2001, and last year. They were all seemingly minor items in my opinion, and all but the most recent were unavoidable, but somehow grudgey blamed me. Only the most recent item was something that I knowingly did, and even that (a lack of communication between us) was because I felt tension between myself and the grudge holder.

To appease grudgey, I apologized for my transgressions, yet somehow I do not think grudgey will let go of this grudge. I think grudgey likes holding grudges. I’ve heard that grudgey has similar issues with several other people. In the past, this behavior seemed odd to me, but now it makes complete sense. I believe grudgey likes being able to blame other people for all of his/her problems. Not having to take responsibility for the negative results of his/her life is probably freeing on some level. Maybe I’ll start compiling a grudge list too. I’d like to blame other folks for my problems. Nah, it sounds like too much work.

Adrianna update

2011-09-16T09:32:00.001-04:00

You may recall I met a woman named Adrianna a couple weeks ago.

Well, I saw her again last Friday night.

I went to the old-folk’s bar to do some karaoke. As I sat down, I noticed Adrianna sitting at the far end of the bar. She was sitting with a seedy looking dude.

I considered walking over to chat with her, but decided against it. I scanned through the karaoke book, and picked my first song of the evening. I think it was Handy Man by James Taylor.

After I sang my first song, the bartender commented to me that there was something wrong with the woman at the end of the bar (Adrianna), and she (the bartender) was going to ask Adrianna to leave.

I agreed that there might be something wrong with Adrianna, and the bartender went back to her business.

I picked out my second song of the evening, Rhinestone Cowboy by Glenn Campbell.

As I readied myself to sing, there was a commotion at the far end of the bar. Adrianna got up and told the bartender, “I just need to get up and walk around a little.” Adrianna then started to stagger around the bar, using her hands to steady herself on the bar and stools as she went.

As Adrianna navigated past me, I asked, “Adrianna, are you okay?”

I got no reply. No look of recognition. No reaction at all. I just caught a glimpse of her glazed-over eyes.

Adrianna made it back to her barstool.

Then a conversation started between Adrianna, the Seedy Dude, and the bar owner.

The bartender approached me and said, “She has been here for hours, but has had only three drinks. I’ve never seen anyone so trashed from three drinks.”

Then I overhead the bar owner say, “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here in your condition.”

After a little more conversation, the bar owner said, “Do you know where you live? I can drive you home.”

Adrianna nodded and made some pointing gesture in the general direction of where she thought she lived.

The bar owner then ushered Adrianna out of the bar. Seedy Dude tried to follow, but the bar owner said, “She doesn’t need you this evening. Stay here.” Seedy Dude looked upset, as he had just lost his sure thing for the evening.

The bar owner returned about five or ten minutes later.

During the rest of my evening, I did several more karaoke tunes and talked to a chick named Tracy, but no other significant drama occurred.

So. I’m guessing Adrianna was experiencing a bad reaction between some alcohol and whatever medication she was on. Either that or it was an act, since I saw her consume more than three drinks a couple weeks ago without incident.

Oh, well. Thought you might like an Adrianna update.

Botulism Betty got me again

2011-09-13T17:24:00.001-04:00

Years ago I found that my body cannot tolerate a certain person's cooking. It seems that about every other time that I eat this person's cooking, I get food poisoning.

Over the years I have found the best course of action when dealing with food offers from this person is just to pass altogether. I normally eat before I stop at this person's house, and then I can honestly claim that I just ate.

Sometimes it is clear that my food refusals have caused hurt feelings. Whatever. I'm more concerned about my health than someone's hurt feelings.

Over the weekend, I stopped at this person's house. It was about 6:30pm and I hadn't eaten anything all day. I was hungry.

This person offered me a roast beef sandwich.

I pondered the offer. It has been probably four or five years since the last time I had gotten sick from this person's cooking, so the memory was starting to fade. I thought to myself, "How can someone mess up a roast beef sandwich?" Again, I was hungry, so I accepted the meal invitation.

I got inside this person's house. We sat down to eat. Then this person pulled a couple slices of roast beef from the microwave and offered it to me. I made a sandwich. The roast beef tasted kind of funky, like it had been sitting around for a month. I could tell also that it had not been heated enough in the microwave. One other thing, the bread tasted stale, like it was a week old or older.

Then this person offered me some ham salad. The single roast beef sandwich hadn't quenched my hunger, so I had some of that too. I'm not a big fan of ham salad, egg salad, tuna salad, or any other pseudo-salad folks sometimes make sandwiches out of, but this stuff tasted okay. I had two of these sandwiches.

As we sat there talking, I noticed a couple flies buzzing around the ham salad. It wasn't sitting close enough for me to do anything about. Botulism Betty seemed unconcerned. The container of ham salad was not new, it had been partially used during a previous meal. All I could think about was a bunch of flies sitting around on this ham salad when it was served last, and ham salad (and all those other pseudo-salads) are suspect at best when it comes to longevity and freshness.

I went to work Monday. I felt odd. As the day wore on, a headache started. Around 2pm, my stomach started churning. Finally, about 15 minutes before I normally leave for the day, I hurried to the lavatory and barfed. Several times.

This was the first time I've been sick at work in probably fifteen years. It wasn't fun. I actually took the day off sick today as the lingering effects of the food poisoning wear off. I'm not sure when the last time I took a sick day, and I was actually sick. Maybe ten years ago?

So it appears that Botulism Betty got me again. I suppose it is possible that this person didn't cause my illness. Perhaps it is something that I did after I visited her home. Either way, I feel the need to step up on my food prep cleanliness. I also have a renewed sense that I should never eat Botulism Betty's food. I think that would be a wise decision.

What's up, I Ching?

2011-09-05T23:51:00.000-04:00

I had a rough time at work last week. I got pissed and decided to take this week off to gain some perspective. I also told my boss that I'll probably take a couple days off next week too.

I had a rough weekend. Three days of drinking in a row. Well, I didn't really get drunk three days in a row, but still, I went out three nights in a row. Two nights to the old-folks bar, and one night to my regular bar. Kind of odd behavior, since I've been trying to slow down in that arena.

I had another encounter at the old-folks bar on Friday night. Not quite as traumatic as the Adrianna fiasco, but still, I dropped the ball romantically once again. A cute chick approached me four different times, yet I remained aloof. On her fourth and final approach, she became irritated with me. I guess I don't blame her. What was I thinking? I don't know.

On the other hand, I'm finding out that the old-folks bar seems to be a prime place to pick-up chicks. Who knew? I just need to conjure up some game on my part. Also, I am leaning toward making the old-folks bar my primary hangout. I am just too old for my regular bar. I accept it now.

Since I'm taking the week off, I hope to make some progress on my various DIY projects. I also scheduled another used car test drive tomorrow in an effort to replace my ailing Jeep. I haven't been to a movie in a while, and that Our Idiot Brother flick looks like it might be okay. I wonder if I'll actually do anything this week. We'll see.

I'm wondering what I Ching has to say about these recent events. Let's see. I picked a card at random, Appropriate Waiting - Act at the correct time, and performed the three coin toss. Here is the reading:

Waiting in mud, a person is inviting injuries.

Odd reading, I Ching. I try to avoid mud, and I don't recall ever waiting in it, at least not recently. Plus, how would I get hurt in mud? Am I going to get stuck and then be unable to get out of the way of a bus or something? Please clarify, I Ching.

Here is the explanation of the reading:

Alarming and dangerous as this message may sound, stay calm. This is only a warning of what might happen if you make no effort to help yourself and simply wait for help to come to you. If you have patience and strategically plan your move for just the right moment, things will be fine. Getting stuck or delayed may even be a blessing in disguise. Get help or moral support from friends or loved ones near you. Wait and let the dust of life settle so you can see better. The trick is to be calm and not fall into the mud of despair. Give yourself a treat.

Huh. I didn't realize that this was an alarming or dangerous reading. Oh, well. Also, I'm not sure, but I Ching seems to contradict himself in this reading. I'm not supposed to wait for help, but I am supposed to wait and let the dust of life settle. What is the difference? Waiting is waiting, right? Whatever. The "stay calm" aspect is at least consistent through the reading. That seems like fair advice. Plus, I'm supposed to give myself a treat. I like that. Alright. I'm tired. Goodnight.

I am sorry, Adrianna

2011-08-31T07:21:00.002-04:00

Was her name Adrianna? Maybe it was Arianna? Or maybe it was some similar combination of letters. I’m not sure. I couldn’t tell from the odd cursive scribbled on the cocktail napkin that she handed me.

What? Cursive scribbles on a cocktail napkin? Okay, I guess I’ll have to back up a bit to make this story clearer.

I went out for a drink Saturday night, but not to my regular bar. No, no. My regular bar gets too crowded with young punks for me to handle on Saturday nights. Instead, I went to the old-folks bar where the crowds are manageable, and where I feel young compared to some of the other patrons.

I sat down at the corner of the bar and ordered a Bud Light since the old-folks bar doesn’t carry my beloved Rolling Rock. Then I got up and snatched a karaoke song book from a couple seats away. That’s when I first noticed her. She was a bookish looking, yet attractive, brunette chick talking to some dude on the other side of the bar. By the way she was talking to the dude, I thought they were a couple.

I walked back to my barstool and picked out my first song for the evening – King of the Road by Roger Miller. This is one of the reasons why I like to come to the old-folks bar - I can attempt to sing older tunes that would never be accepted by the young punks at my regular bar.

Within thirty seconds after turning in my karaoke selection, I was holding the mic, doing karaoke. This is another reason why I like to come to the old-folks bar – I don’t have to wait an hour or more to attempt to sing.

I did a good job on my first tune. The acoustics at the old-folks bar are better than at my regular bar, and I can actually hear myself sing - yet another reason why I like to come to the old-folks bar.

I picked out another old tune for my next selection – Behind Closed Doors by Charlie Rich. That’s when I noticed her again. The dude she had been talking to got up and moved to a different barstool. She followed. Then the dude got up again and moved to the barstool next to me. The bookish chick then sat on the other side of the dude, two barstools from me.

I drank some of my Bud Light and overheard parts of the conversation between the bookish chick and the dude. The bookish chick was doing 98% of the talking. In fact she seemed manic, plus she was scribbling little notes on the cocktail napkins.

I sang my second tune. I did okay, but not as well as I had done with my first tune. I sat down and picked out my third tune – The Gambler by Kenny Rogers.

While I was waiting to sing, the bookish chick got up to sing a tune. Well, I thought she was going to sing. She told the KJ that she didn’t need the mic. She stood in front of the karaoke screen and read some of the words, but after a short while she quit and sat down.

A little bit later, I got up and did The Gambler. I did okay. The crowd seemed to enjoy it. As I sat down, the dude said “good job,” and the bookish chick said “that was awesome.”

The dude then introduced himself as Ty, and claimed that he was a regular at the old-folks bar, although he seemed young to be hanging out there. I would guess that Ty was in his mid-thirties. For the record, the bookish chick also looked to be in her mid-thirties.

Ty got up to do some karaoke. While Ty was singing, the bookish chick moved to the barstool next to me. Then she started scribbling on some cocktail napkins. A few moments later she handed me two cocktail napkins, one with a bizarre reference to Nietzsche, and the other with some odd poem that she claimed she had just written for me, plus she signed her kind-of-illegible first name at the bottom of one of the napkins. I’m not 100 percent sure what it was, but my best guess is that it was Adrianna.

Adrianna wanted to talk about Nietzsche. After I explained that, yes, I had heard of the man, and probably read some of his work long ago while in High School or College, he wasn’t on my regular reading list. Adrianna seemed bummed that I wasn’t up to speed on my Nietzsche, and then she started talking about Plato. Plato? Really? Come on, Adrianna.

Then Adrianna shifted her conversation into a manic high gear. She tried to relate a complete history of her educational past, family situation, current status, and life plan all in less than two minutes. I started to suspect that Adrianna was on some kind of drug, but I’m not sure. I’m no expert at such things. Perhaps she was hyper because she was just released from jail or a mental institution. Again, I’m not sure.

Ty got back from singing and then shortly thereafter he walked outside for a smoke. Adrianna followed him outside.

While Ty and Adrianna were outside, a couple sat down on the other side of me. The guy introduced himself as Paul, and then Paul introduced the lady he was with as his friend Sharon. Almost immediately Paul defined his relationship with Sharon as “a friend with benefits” situation. I didn’t need this information. I didn’t ask for it. Sharon seemed embarrassed by Paul’s statement. If you want to have that type of relationship and you find someone who is willing to go along with it, then good for you. But to announce it to some stranger? It seems pretty tacky to me.

About this time I did Folsom Prison Blues by Johnny Cash. I did okay.

Then Adrianna came back to the barstool next to me, sat down, and then she crammed her nose into my right shoulder and sniffed. Yes, she sniffed my shoulder. I don’t know what the heck that was all about. Paul attentively watched this behavior, and commented to me that Adrianna seemed cute and asked what her status was. I told Paul that I didn’t know for sure.

Then Paul got up and talked with seemingly every woman in the place. I got up and did my next tune, Sundown by Gordon Lightfoot. I did okay, but not great.

I sat back down, and Adrianna was rubbing something on her face. Moisturizer, I assumed. For the sake of conversation, I asked Adrianna what she was doing. At light speed, Adrianna launched into an explanation of her personal grooming history and then she started rubbing moisturizer on my hands. It actually felt nice, a cute chick rubbing stuff on my hands. Oh, well. I don’t get out much.

Paul witnessed this interaction and said to Adrianna, “You’re cute. Do you want to come home with me?” I assumed this question was supposed to be a joke, but Adrianna perked up and asked, “Are you asking to have sex with me?”

Paul said, “Um, uh, sure. But it wouldn’t be just with me. My friend Sharon would be there too.”

Then Adrianna got up and talked to Sharon, who seemed uncomfortable with the whole situation. Then Adrianna and Sharon walked outside to talk in a quieter setting.

While the two women were gone, I talked with Paul. I told him that Adrianna seemed to be impaired, either because of drugs or mental defect. Paul was happy to hear this. He claimed that, “This will be the easiest three-way I’ve ever had to put together.”

I tried to reason with Paul by saying only a morally bankrupt individual would take advantage of someone in Adrianna’s condition. Paul agreed and then just laughed.

Paul then launched into a recitation of his theories on sex, women, threesomes, and other topics I didn’t want to hear about. Paul bragged about how much sex he had had since his divorce a few years before. Paul claimed he could score with any woman currently in the old-folks bar. Then Paul stated that he planned on discarding Adrianna after the night was over, since, according to him, “there are plenty of other damaged women out there, just waiting for me.”

It was obvious that Paul was a very confident man, even though he was in his fifties, completely bald, and very much a jerk. I know women find confidence sexy. I understand this fact. But it seems that being a complete jerk should counteract the confidence thing, although from my observations over the years, I have found that it rarely does. Jerks are usually successful with the ladies.

Adrianna and Sharon came back. They started to talk with Paul. I did not want to hear any of the specifics discussed. I started looking through the karaoke book for another tune to attempt to sing.

After a few minutes, Paul loudly announced it was time to leave. He asked Adrianna, “Are you coming with us, or what?” Adrianna said, “Just a minute.”

Adrianna walked behind me and tapped me on the shoulder. I turned. Then Adrianna said something like the following, “It has been a long time since I have had sex. I don’t have a lot of options here. Your name was brought up while I was talking with Sharon. Would you like to have sex with me? I’d rather do it with you than with Paul and Sharon. I have to know right now.”

I was flabbergasted. I never get propositioned by somewhat cute women. Sometimes I get propositioned by old ladies or gay men, but never by somewhat cute women. My mind raced. Although some part of me wanted to say “Yes, let’s go,” I couldn’t take advantage of someone who seemed impaired. That kind of depravity just isn’t in me. It seems that I am not morally bankrupt … yet.

I hem-hawed around for a moment, but then told Adrianna, “I can’t.” Then Adrianna said, “At least you are honest,” and she turned and walked out the door with Paul and Sharon.

If I would have been given a few more moments to think, I would have asked Adrianna to come and talk with me outside. I would have tried to explain to her that I am not the kind of guy who can jump into bed with someone I just met, let alone someone who seems impaired. I would have tried to explain that I thought she was attractive, and maybe after we got to know each other a little better, something physical might happen, if she was actually not impaired and still remotely attracted to me. I would have tried to relate relevant parts of my earlier conversation with Paul. In summary, I would have tried to explain that I would have liked to be her friend. But I didn’t have the time to gather my thoughts. That, in a nutshell, is the story of my romantic life. The few chances I am afforded, I squander.

A few minutes after Adrianna left, Ty came back from wherever he had been and asked where Adrianna had gone. I told him that I thought she went home with a couple for a three-way. He seemed shocked and confused. I think I was too.

A few minutes later, an old lady hit on me. It was the same old lady who hits on me nearly every time I go into the old-folks bar. This may be the reason why I don’t make the old-folks bar my regular watering hole. I feel super uncomfortable and super inappropriate when this happens, like I have to explain to a woman who is old enough to be my mom why I don’t want to be with her. Also, it is as if she doesn’t remember that she has hit on me several times now, and I have rejected her each and every time. Maybe she really doesn’t remember. If that is the case, then maybe dementia can have positive facets; like you don’t remember all of your mistakes.

I finished up my karaoke evening by doing Brandy by Looking Glass. I did well, but the bar was nearly empty. I walked out of the bar while a single patron clapped his approval of my performance.

I stopped at Taco Bell on my way home and got my standard chipula and taco meal. I arrived home and ate my food and watched some TV, but something wasn’t right in my head. I felt bad about things. Really, really bad.

I am sorry, Adrianna. You seemed impaired, but I allowed Paul to take you into his world of debauchery without a struggle, or even a cross word. You are an adult and are free to make your own decisions, but still, I feel the situation warranted me to do more than the nothing that I did. You deserved to have someone looking out for your well-being, but I didn’t. I am so sorry. Please forgive me.

Every fourth year reality check

2011-08-30T06:58:00.000-04:00

Ohio requires drivers to renew their driver’s licenses every four years. Last Friday after work, I renewed mine.

I was actually looking forward to this because the driver’s license I’ve had for the last four years contains possibly the worst photo of myself I’ve ever seen. It reflected a scowling, sweaty, pasty-white version of me with messed-up hair. Perhaps I was upset with the surly BMV employee taking my photo. Perhaps I was overheated because the A/C in the BMV place wasn’t working. I don’t recall, but whatever was going on, I clearly wasn’t happy in the photo.

I arrived at the BMV place and took a number, which happened to be 87. I stood in line for what seemed to be forever, as I think a long wait is required by State law.

I was behind an old man with cobwebs strewn all over his head and the back of his shirt. What was this old guy doing before he came here? Extracting the neighbor’s kitty from his crawlspace? Taking a nap in the attic? Who knows? But what I do know is that old man cobweb should’ve checked his look in the mirror before heading to the BMV to get his picture taken. Whatever. I hope old man cobweb enjoys his cobweb look for the next four years on his license. I’ve been told that the cobweb look is in now.

Behind me were what appeared to be two stoners. I thought I caught a whiff of weed, but it has been awhile, so maybe I was mistaken.

There was the obligatory out of control little kid running around the place; making a racket, getting up in various peoples’ business, asking questions of strangers. Every fifteen seconds or so, the kid’s mom would yell, “Ashley, get back here this second!” Of course the little kid wouldn’t listen. Instead of going back to her mom, she would start singing a tune, and then skip/run towards the next person in line to ask them about their tennis shoes.

Shortly after I got to the front of the line, one of the normally surly BMV employees called out, “I can help number 87!” I walked up and announced that I wanted to renew my driver’s license.

This BMV employee must’ve been having a good day. She was not surly at all. She wanted to chit-chat about the weather and whatnot. Then she took a moment to comment about how cute the out of control little kid was, and then she leaned out over the counter to talk to the little kid as she skipped/ran past. After a few moments of this treatment, I started to miss the normally surly BMV attitude. Just process my license stuff so I can be on my way already!

Then I was directed to the far end of the counter to take my new driver’s license photo. I tried to remember to smile, but I think the chatty BMV chick snapped the photo before I could get my smile on. After that, I was directed to sit in a nearby chair to wait for the picture to develop.

A few minutes later the chatty BMV chick handed me my new driver’s license. When handing it to me she made a comment about how I looked younger in this pic than in my old driver’s license pic.

I looked at the license. I’ll admit that it was a better pic than the one on the previous license, but I don’t think I looked younger. In fact, I looked eerily like my oldest brother did about a decade ago. But at least I wasn’t scowling, my skin tone looked a little better, and I wasn’t sweaty. In the new pic I have a weird crooked smirk. Yup, I knew I didn’t get my smile on properly before the BMV chick snapped the photo. Plus I look like I’m drunk, but I wasn’t. Honest. Also, my neck looks fatter in the newer pic even though I’m twenty or so lbs lighter now than I was four years ago. Nice.

I’m not pleased with the new pic, but whatever. I guess I’ll try again in another four years.

Meeting? What meeting?

2011-08-28T20:02:00.001-04:00

I work with dolts. Every one of my co-workers is a dolt in their own way. And yes, I guess I am a dolt too.

The following is an example of one of my co-worker's doltish behavior:

I started off last week by catching up on some administrative work when a co-worker, Mr. CS, stopped by another co-worker's cube, I'll call her TJ.

Mr. CS had led a recent assignment in which both TJ and I had participated. During his talk with TJ, Mr. CS loudly discussed the need for a follow-up meeting on this assignment, which he planned for Thursday. I wasn't included in this conversation, but since it was so loud I overheard most of it.

“Interesting”, I thought. I had been on this assignment, but Mr. CS hadn't related anything to me about this meeting.

Later in the day I stopped by Mr. CS’s cube and asked about the meeting on Thursday. Mr. CS gave me a summary of what was to be discussed at the Thursday meeting and asked that I review it for him. I reviewed the summary and told Mr. CS everything looked good. This summary report clearly included the expected date of the meeting, Thursday August 25th.

I assumed that I was to join the meeting scheduled for Thursday, even though Mr. CS hadn’t told me where this meeting would be at or what time the meeting would start. I figured that Mr. CS would let me know this information either on Tuesday or Wednesday. Getting information from Mr. CS is sometimes like pulling teeth.

Tuesday morning TJ stopped by my cube and we discussed various topics. She asked me what I was going to be working on during the rest of the week. I mentioned that I expected to participate in Thursday's meeting.

TJ told me that Mr. CS had told her that he didn’t need me at Thursday's meeting.

“Interesting”, I thought. Perhaps Mr. CS hadn’t given me specific details on the meeting location and time because he didn’t need me there. TJ also said not to worry about asking Mr. CS for additional information on the meeting.

I felt there was something not right about the situation. As I had handled a large part of that assignment, I possessed intimate knowledge about the assignment that no one else knew.

Tuesday afternoon I stopped at Mr. CS’s cube, and asked if he needed me to participate in the Thursday meeting.

Mr. CS acted as if I was insane. He said, “The meeting is Wednesday, not Thursday.”

I showed Mr. CS the summary report that he had given me to review on Monday, which clearly identified the meeting date as Thursday, August 25th.

Mr. CS claimed that was an old draft, and that the meeting had been reset to Wednesday some time last week.

Regarding my participation at the meeting, Mr. CS said, “Of course you need to be there. Why wouldn’t you be there?”

I related TJ’s comments from earlier in the day. Mr. CS claimed he never told TJ that I didn’t need to be at the meeting.

I then asked that Mr. CS tell me where the meeting was to be at and what time the meeting was to commence.

Mr. CS said, “I’m sure I sent you something on that. I will resend that information to you later today.”

I went back to my cube a little irritated. I searched through my emails. I had received only one email from Mr. CS during the last month, and it didn't relate to this meeting or this assignment.

I worked the rest of the afternoon on some stuff from another assignment. I didn’t receive an email from Mr. CS.

Wednesday came and I still hadn't received an email from Mr. CS.

I expected the meeting to be in the early afternoon, as Mr. CS did mention something about catching lunch before the meeting. I talked with TJ who let me know that the meeting was to start at 12:30 at another office. I finagled a ride from TJ and attended the meeting. Done and done.

After the meeting I checked my emails one more time, thinking that Mr. CS had waited until the last possible moment to send me the meeting location and start time. Nope, no email from Mr. CS.

I stopped by Mr. CS's cube at the end of the day Wednesday and asked why he hadn't sent me the meeting information. He got irritated and said he had sent me the information and would search for his email and prove me wrong.

The next morning, Mr. CS stopped by my cube and said he must've forgotten to send me the email as he couldn't find evidence of it on his computer, but he didn't apologize. Jerk.

So why can't I work with real professionals? Why must I work with dolts? Why is it so difficult for some people to relate correct information? Ack!

I miss food

2011-08-26T07:43:00.000-04:00

I’ve been struggling with my weight for most of the past decade. No matter how much I exercised, it seems that the extra pounds would not come off. Rather, it seemed like it was all about diet for me. My metabolism has slowed to the point where I can no longer eat like a normal person. I am not a big dieter; I like to eat, so this is a problem.

Back in June I decided to make some serious changes to my diet. The result is that I’ve lost roughly twenty pounds since the start of this year. I haven’t weighed this little since about nine years ago.

How did I do it? Well, partly because I haven’t been on the road a lot this year, I’ve been able to jog more this year than last. As I near the end of August, I’ve jogged about as much so far this year as I did for all of last year. But wait. I said earlier it is all about diet for me. Yes, it is.

I think the solution has been reducing the amount of food I eat late in the day. I eat the same breakfast. I eat the same lunch. But I no longer always eat a full meal for dinner. About every other day I either eat just a tuna sandwich or a hard boiled egg sandwich for dinner. Again, I like to eat. This has not been easy.

Also, before I started losing weight I thought that if I lost twenty lbs I could fit into all the clothes that I used to wear that silently taunt me from my closet. But I can’t. I still wear the same clothes I wore at my heaviest. Sure, I need to adjust my belt a notch tighter than I used to, but that’s it. I estimate now that I’ll need to lose another twenty or so lbs to fit into most of my old clothes. That isn’t going to happen. I’ll be lucky to maintain my current weight, especially since I expect to be spending lots of time on the road for work this fall. Opportunities for exercise and good diet fly out the window when I am sitting in a hotel room at night. Oh, well.

I miss food. My stomach is growling. I want to hit every fast food joint that exists. I am in trouble.

Another label for myself

2011-08-24T08:31:00.001-04:00

A couple years ago I realized that I had become the cliché “creepy uncle” at various family events. Fine. I accepted it. Someone had to claim that title in our family. It might as well be me. Just as long as I only appear creepy to my nieces and nephews, and I am not actually creepy in real life, then I am okay with that. Um, right. Too bad that other folks find me to be creepy too. Great.

Last night I looked around the house with fresh eyes. It is a complete disaster. The kitchen continues to be a non-functional mess. The wallpaper in the living room, dining room, and both the downstairs and upstairs baths are half torn off. The floor in the downstairs bath is half-gone. There is a big spot on the living room ceiling where there must’ve been a water leak years ago. The real problem with all of these DIY projects is that I don’t really care. I have no motivation to fix these conditions. Who am I fixing the stuff for? Me? Well, that just isn’t good enough. I’d rather sit around and watch American Pickers or Flipping Out on the tube.

With that admission, I realized that I have also become yet another cliché. Which one, you ask? I have become the standard “old bachelor living in squalor.” This label bothers me a little more than the “creepy uncle” one.

I’ve encountered a few of these old bachelors in the past. They all seemed to be sad cases, and I never thought I’d become one of them. But I have.

There was one old dude I knew when I was growing up. He never married and seemed socially inept. He helped his brother farm. He was always at his brother’s house, eating his food, playing cards, watching tv, or doing whatever. He was always at family gatherings, but he rarely spoke. I think he went just for the free food. After his brother died, he spent more and more time alone. When he finally died, folks went into his house for the first time in years. It was a mess. Junk covered the floor. Junk stacked to the ceiling. Plumbing fixtures didn’t work. Holes in the walls.

Then there was another old dude I knew. He also helped his brother farm. When he was younger I think he may have been a ladies man, and that might be the reason he never settled down. After his brother died, he kept to himself. Over time he became a frail old man, wearing the same clothes he had worn thirty years before, from when he still felt young-ish. He didn’t care that they were no longer in style. He started to wear giant Elton John-esque glasses, and since he never went anywhere he thought he looked fine. His health finally gave out, and he had to have a nurse visit him every few days. His house was a mess. Junk everywhere. Nothing worked, but he didn’t care.

I see myself going down a similar path as these two other gentlemen, and I’m only an occasional burden on my farmer brother. So maybe I’m even worse off. Wait. I actually have a job out in the real world. I am forced to interact with other people on a daily basis. Maybe there is hope for me yet. Maybe.

And the pendulum swings back again

2011-08-23T09:03:00.003-04:00

Something happened Sunday night. It has happened before, and I’m not sure why.

I was actually working on my kitchen remodel. Yes, amazing but true. Earlier that day I had gotten the kitchen counter to a point where I was satisfied for now, but more work would be needed when I got other things further along. Then I started working on the kitchen floor… prepping the floor for tile installation, and I even put down a couple tiles.

That’s when it happened. All of a sudden I lost all of my energy and all I wanted to do was sleep. Even watching my beloved Celebrity Rehab didn’t get me out of my funk.

I went to bed early for me; at little after 10:00pm. I got up yesterday morning at my regular time. I felt unsettled, listless, without hope.

I got to work; still feeling listless. As the day wore on, anger grew inside me. All I wanted to do was bite someone’s head off; anyone’s head. I tried to keep quiet in my cube; I didn’t want to interact with anyone.

For the last few months I had been feeling relatively good about things, but during the past few days I could tell my time being positive was nearing an end. I tried to ignore it, but now I am back at the bottom of my mood arc; pissed off at the world. Hopefully, I won’t be down here too long, but there is no telling how long this mood will last. Actually, I feel I bit better today. A little bit.

I wish I knew what causes this change. Is it a chemical thing? Did I run out of a certain hormone? Maybe an allergy triggered it? Something I ate? Something I did? Did I push myself too far? Or is it a combination of issues? I have no idea.

I want to retreat into myself. Hide myself away. Build more walls around my little world, even though I’ve got multiple walls around it already. I just hid my profile on a personals website, again. I wonder if I should ever unhide it. Probably not. I can't imagine anyone who I'd want to be with, wanting to be with me. Good thoughts; good times.

Bowling must have been important to me back then...

2011-08-21T20:05:00.000-04:00

Several years ago, I was in a bowling league with people from where I worked. This league met on Fridays at 9:30pm, and it was cramping my style. Style? Me? Who am I kidding?

Bowling can be fun, but after a few Friday nights of bowling with co-workers, I was getting tired of the routine.

One Friday, BS-Boy, my then-roommate, wanted to go to a club not far from where we lived. It was still early (around 8pm). Back then, people went out a lot earlier than they do nowadays – they didn’t wait until midnight to hit the clubs. BS-Boy said that we could check out the club, and then go to the bowling alley if nothing was going on.

I drove BS-Boy to the club. We went inside and got some beers. BS-Boy immediately starting hitting on women. As usual, I was his comic relief.

We were at the club about an hour when I decided that I should go to the bowling alley. Around that time, BS-Boy introduced me to Linda. Linda was a lovely nursing student with dark hair. I talked with Linda and she seemed nice. Linda and I danced a little, and she seemed interested in me.

I was torn, but I felt I had to go to the bowling alley. I hadn’t called anyone to sub for me. It would be irresponsible of me to not show up. I had to leave.

I told Linda that I had to go bowling. Linda seemed taken aback. I asked Linda if she would be around in a couple hours. She said maybe. Linda then said that sometimes she hung out Wednesday nights at another bar close to where she lived. Maybe she'd see me there.

BS-Boy was shocked that I wanted to leave, but, after a little arguing, we went to the bowling alley.

The league play was especially boring that night. I hurried through my frames and BS-Boy and I went back to the club to find Linda. Of course she was gone. I should’ve at least gotten her phone number. What was I thinking?

BS-Boy and I then went to another club, BS-Boy found himself a lady, and he went to her place. I went home alone, as usual.

The following Wednesday, I went to the bar that Linda mentioned near where she lived. I didn’t see her. I went back the Wednesday after that. Again, I didn’t see her. Finally, about a month later, I saw a girl at that bar that looked like Linda, but I wasn’t sure if she was Linda. It had been too long.

Then I started feeling weird about what I was doing. I realized that I was stalking Linda. I left that bar and never went back.

After that bowling season was over, I quit the league.

What is the lesson? If you are on a league of some sort, and you are getting tired of the routine, call a sub and take a week off. Otherwise, you may get burned-out. Also, if you meet someone who seems special, but you have to go someplace else, at least try to get their phone number. If they refuse, they probably weren’t into you in the first place. You’ll feel better that you made an attempt, and you won’t have as many lingering regrets.

One other thing, I think this is the only BS-Boy story where I can't blame him for my romantic mis-step. It is all my fault. Ah, well. Just another memory from the Surly Scott vault. Good times.

Every other day

2011-08-17T08:36:00.000-04:00

Mr. Wonderful is back at it again. Actually, he never stopped. I just tried to ignore him this year. But I can’t anymore. What can’t I ignore? He continually has his dog poop on my property.

When I bought my house in 2007, the real estate agent let me know that one of my neighbors had submitted several lowball offers on my house. This seemed very jerk-like, since the folks I bought my house from were both residing in an assisted-living facility and needed the money from the sale of their house to continue living there.

Anyway, the real estate agent let me know that this neighbor of mine had called her, and bitched at her for selling the house “out from under him.” Sorry, asshat. If you wanted to buy the house, you should’ve submitted a credible offer.

About a month after I moved in, Mr. Wonderful introduced himself and made it clear that he had wanted to buy my property, but I had screwed him out of it. Shortly thereafter, I would notice Mr. Wonderful wandering around on my property as I arrived home from work. He wouldn’t even try to hide the fact that he was trespassing, he even waved at me a couple times as he scampered back towards his house.

That summer, I noticed dog poop around my house about every other day. I didn’t know who’s dog it was, but I suspected Mr. Wonderful, as he would be the only person with the gall to do such a thing on a continual basis. That winter, I noticed footprints (and dogprints) in the snow between my house and his.

The dog poop continued in 2008, but instead of being placed randomly, it seemed to be usually located in the flower bed outside the picture window of my dining room. Along with the dog poop, I would find foot prints in the flower bed, as if Mr. Wonderful was trying to look into my house (I keep the blinds mostly closed). Late that summer, I finally caught Mr. Wonderful in the act of walking his dog towards my house in the middle of the night. When he saw me, he just made a ninety degree turn and marched towards the street. I suppose he let his dog do it’s business in someone else’s yard that night.

The dog poop occurrences seemed to decrease during the rest of that year, but during the summer of 2009 they increased again. This time the poop was located mostly behind my house, away from the street. No one, I mean no one, would have the balls to regularly march their dog all the way around someone else’s house to have it crap there except Mr. Wonderful. I started spreading cayenne pepper around my house. I figured the dog would sniff the stuff and become agitated. It seemed to work in the short-term, but whenever it rained or a strong wind came, the pepper would have to be reapplied.

Last summer, the dog poop was normally located on the East side of my house, which faces Mr. Wonderful’s house. I started to accept the constant dog poop, until the grass along my house died. I bought some motion detector alarms and a motion sensor light. I used the light for a while, but never installed the alarms.

For most of this summer, the dog poop has been located in a corner of the flower bed outside of my living room window. I got into a routine. In the evening about every other day, I would scoop the poop up and fling it into the fenced portion of Mr. Wonderful’s back yard. Then I would see Mr. Wonderful’s dog run over and eat it’s own crap. Nice. I had accepted this routine as how it would be moving forward.

About a week ago, Mr. Wonderful broke this routine. No, the dog poop can still be found about every other day, but instead of it being in a regular spot, it now can be found anywhere around the perimeter of my house. This has upset me. Last night I dug out the motion sensor alarms I had purchased last year and determined where they should be mounted. Tonight after work, I’ll get some batteries for the alarms, and then I’ll install them.

The problem with this plan is that Mr. Wonderful only works part-time. He knows my schedule. He could easily wait until I go to work to let his dog do it’s thing. We’ll see how it goes.

I knew watching South Park would eventually bite me in the ass

2011-08-15T08:29:00.002-04:00

I sometimes watch reruns of South Park shortly before going to bed.

Last week I watched the episode where Cartman was all about stereotyping ginger kids (kids with red hair and freckles) as soulless automatons who must be segregated from normal society. Then Stan and Kyle snuck into Cartman’s house while he was asleep and colored his hair red and also applied henna spots on his face to represent freckles. Cartman then led a ginger kid revolution and planned to rid the world of all non-gingers until he learned he wasn’t ginger at all.

The following afternoon I had a dental appointment to have my teeth cleaned. The dental assistant had a baby since my last visit. I asked her about the new kid. She said he was okay, and pointed to his picture on the other side of the room. I looked at the kid’s picture and he was a little ginger kid, complete with freckles and red hair. Before I could contain myself, I loudly said, “Oh, my!” The dental assistant seemed perturbed.

I tried to recover from my statement, but I couldn’t.

What followed was a more painful teeth cleaning than was really necessary. Blood flowed. Thanks, South Park. Maybe I need to rethink my late night TV routine.

Midnight racket

2011-08-12T08:14:00.003-04:00

Okay. It wasn’t midnight. It was 10pm. But still.

Oh, wait. You don’t know what I’m talking about. I’ll tell you.

Somebody was mowing my neighbor’s yard at 10pm last night. That’s right. It was completely pitch dark outside, and some ass-hat was mowing my neighbor’s yard.

Picture the scene: It was just the second comfortable night (temperature wise) since the middle of June (we’ve been having an abnormally hot summer). I opened up the windows to let some fresh air in. I was just starting to think about retiring for the evening when… a mower started right outside my window. And it continued for about 90 minutes.

My neighbor’s yard is small… about the same size as mine. It takes me about 40 minutes to mow my yard with my clunky little push mower. It took this guy more than twice that time to mow my neighbor's yard than it should’ve taken. I suppose it is difficult to mow when YOU CAN’T SEE ANYTHING.

And it wasn’t my jerk neighbor, Mr. Wonderful. I’ve come to expect such behavior from him. No. The racket came from the yard of my elderly widow neighbor’s yard, Betty. And I could hear her yell stuff out to the dude mowing like, “You missed a spot over there,” or “You’re getting clippings on the driveway.”

Really, Betty? You are worried about grass clippings on your driveway? I suppose thirty or forty years ago, your once-asphalt driveway looked good, but now it is just an area covered in asphalt pebbles intermingled with weeds. A few clippings aren’t going to be noticed… especially at night.

Another thing, Betty. Your son just mowed your yard last Friday evening. Why do you need to hire it mowed again so soon? Couldn’t you wait until your son or grandson have the time to mow it over the weekend?

But I’ve gotten away from the point of the story. Who mows their yard in the middle of the friggin’ night? Somebody who has no conception of time and somebody who can sleep all day if she wants, that’s who.

I’m trying to think of a reason why Betty had to do this. Maybe she is going out of town for a while, and needed the yard mowed asap? That doesn’t make sense either, since her son has a key to her place, and has mowed her yard when she’s been gone before. Maybe she is having company over today and needed her yard manicured last night? Maybe.

Why would Betty be so inconsiderate of her neighbors? Some people actually need to get some sleep, get up early, and go to work. From a conversation I had with Betty over four years ago, I know the last time she held a job out in the workplace was about sixty years ago. I realize that being a mom is a job too, but it just isn’t the same. Whatever. As long as she doesn’t make a habit of this night mowing thing, I’ll have to get over it.

Uggo? Is that a word an adult should use?

2011-08-11T07:35:00.003-04:00

I really can’t stand my work nemesis, D-Bag. Really. In fact, I am confident that I hate him.

I don’t like to use the word hate. It is so extreme. There are several people who I don’t like or I would rather not associate with, but hate? It is usually too much. The fact that I hate someone tells me that I have failed in my attempt to be a truly decent person. Why? Decent people don’t run around hating other people. It just isn’t done, well, with the possible exceptions of hating villains like Hitler, Osama, or Ryan Seacrest.

In an attempt to lessen my hatred of D-Bag, I’ve recently begun trying to make believe that he doesn’t exist. I’m not sure it can be done. He is just that annoying. His constant marching back and forth outside my cube, jingling change in his pocket, tapping his feet on the plastic carpet protector in his cube, playing with the ring tones on his cell phone, not to mention his regular outrageous comments make ignoring him nearly impossible.

Just this week, D-Bag loudly described a woman that he recently met as an “Uggo.” Really, D-Bag? You’re no Adonis either. You are a sixty-something, rail-thin, withered husk of a man. One would expect a bit more maturity from you, not the mentality and vocabulary of a sixth grader.

Part of the reason I hate D-Bag is deeper than the petty nonsense listed above. It stems from the fact that D-Bag lives in a world of no consequences. He smoked for forty-five years, but has suffered no ill health effects. My Mom never smoked a day in her life, but she died of cancer at about D-Bag’s age. D-Bag munches away constantly at donuts, cheeseburgers, French fries, and soda, but he never gains a pound. If I even think about any unhealthy food it seems that I have to loosen my belt. D-Bag spouts off to our supervisors on a regular basis. If I did that even once I’d be unemployed in a heartbeat. D-Bag recently dated a woman half his age. Even if I was the last man on earth, I’d have difficulty getting a date. D-Bag claims that he goes to church every Sunday, but during the rest of the week he spews stories that reflect his prejudiced views. If I was that big of a hypocrite, I’d be afraid that God would shower lightning bolts down upon my head. D-Bag rides around nine months out of the year on his motorcycle without a helmet. If I tried that a semi would unexpectedly change lanes beside me and a street crew would have to sweep my brains off the pavement.

Please retire, D-Bag. It is time. Aside from the motorcycle riding thing, you would fit in nicely at the senior center. You really would. Honest.

What’s that, D-Bag? You’re not going to retire for at least another four years? Great. Maybe I can last that long, but I doubt it. We’ll see. Maybe I need some counseling on how to deal with a D-Bag. I’ll have to look into it for my own sanity. Thanks for listening.

Is this the end for BS-Boy and me?

2011-08-10T08:32:00.003-04:00

Some months ago my old college buddy, BS-Boy, got married. I didn’t know anything about it until I got an email from him with a link to his gift registry. It seems he got married without anyone being there… no family, no friends… but he wanted gifts after the fact. It seemed odd to me.

Anyway, BS-Boy also said he was inviting me to some kind of party, where, I assume, we were to give them the wedding gifts. I never received the invitation, but that is the kind of treatment I expect from BS-Boy. Since I didn’t get the invitation, I didn’t get BS-Boy a wedding gift, and I didn’t go to BS-Boy’s party.

Again, that was months ago.

Over the last couple weeks I have been spending some time in Cincinnati (where BS-Boy lives) on an assignment for work. Out of a sense of homage to what had been my longest surviving friendship, I sent BS-Boy a note that I was in town. He responded by saying he wanted to meet me at a bar near his house.

We had a couple beers and talked about the old times. Things seemed okay. BS-Boy said he might drive up to Columbus to hang out the following weekend. I said I would be in Cincinnati the following week and maybe I could hang out again the following Thursday evening.

The following weekend came and went without a word from BS-Boy. No calls or emails. BS-Boy has always been too self-involved to make plans that might not be centered around his schedule. I was a little irritated that he didn't let me know that he wasn't going to make it to Columbus, but again, this is the treatment I expect from him. Classic BS-Boy behavior.

The following workweek started. I called BS-Boy to see if he would be busy on Thursday evening. We made plans to have dinner and maybe a beer before I would drive back to Columbus.

After work on Thursday, I arrived at BS-Boy’s house. BS-Boy wasn't home. Neither was his wife. I called his cell. He was at a local coffee shop working on a proposal for a customer. He thought I should meet him there.

I went to the coffee shop. BS-Boy and I talked for a couple minutes and then he said, "Let's go back to my house." I'm not sure why I had to drive to this coffee shop if we were only going to be there a few minutes. I could have easily waited at his house. Whatever.

We got back to BS-Boy's house and he announced that his wife was out of town visiting family, and that he wanted to barbeque some burgers. Okay, fine. This would be a cheaper alternative to dinner out. While bbq-ing, BS-Boy announced that he didn’t have any buns, ketchup, or other items that would be needed for the burgers. We went to a grocery store and picked up the items. BS-Boy flirted with several women while we were in the place. I thought it was odd behavior, but I also thought a little flirting was probably no big thing. His wife might not have a problem with a little flirting. Whatever. We got back to his place and ate the burgers.

After we ate, BS-Boy decided we should go to a bar that recently opened close by. Okay, fine. I did expect to have a beer with BS-Boy before I headed back to Columbus.

We went to this bar. There were about fifteen women in the place, and we were the only guys. This should have been good news for me, but it really wasn’t. BS-Boy hit on a couple of the women, but he struck out both times. Wait. BS-Boy just got married, right? Great. I didn’t really want to witness this kind of betrayal.

We finished our beers and BS-Boy called one of his friends, Dan. Dan wanted BS-Boy to meet him at another bar a few miles away. BS-Boy agreed.

I became concerned. I knew this was no longer going to be a quick visit before I would drive back to Columbus. I said something to BS-Boy about dropping me off at my car, but BS-Boy played it off like I was a pussy who could no longer hang with the big dogs. The truth is that I AM a pussy who can no longer hang with the big dogs, but I couldn’t let BS-Boy know this fact. We went to this other bar.

That bar was empty. We picked up Dan and another friend of BS-Boy's, Andy, and we went to another bar. Then another bar. We ended up in a dance club over the river in Kentucky. We didn't get back to BS-Boy’s house until around 3:00am.

The entire evening was a throwback to when BS-Boy and I would hit the bars in Columbus years ago. BS-Boy all over the place, hitting on every woman in sight. Me standing in the corner, wondering if I was going to make it home alive.

Even though I didn't drink much during that night, I decided to stay overnight at BS-Boy's place. I got up around 8am, watched some of the morning news with BS-Boy, and then drove back to Columbus.

I think I am getting too old to be going to several bars in one night. I know I am too old to be hitting the dance clubs. Also, no one should watch a married "friend" hit on every available woman in sight. It wasn't good.

I am thinking that this little episode, along with the recent wedding non-invite, may signal the appropriate time to end my friendship with BS-Boy. Opinions?

At a standstill?

2011-08-02T22:43:00.007-04:00

Wow. I haven’t posted anything about my home remodel since April. I wonder why that is? Oh, yeah. I haven’t done much on the home remodel since before April. That’s why.

I have lots of excuses. I have been focused on keeping my clunker vehicles on the road, requiring my time, energy, and money. I also continue to invest a bunch of time and money into my hobby clunker with limited results. July was one of the hottest months on record here in Columbus, and I don’t like to do physical labor when it is hot. I’ve driven out of town to visit my Dad each month, effectively using up four weekend days that I might have otherwise spent working on the house. I have a fulltime job, and need time for myself to decompress from said job. Yup. I’ve got my excuses in place. Check.

But wait. I did do some work around the house. Some. Not a lot. But some. I didn't do any work on the house in April. During May I did a bunch of prep work on the kitchen counter surface, finally glued the laminate to the counter surface, and cut a hole in the laminate for the sink. During June I installed the kitchen sink, hooked up the faucet, reinstalled the retro light over the sink, removed the crappy carpet from two rooms exposing the (damaged) hardwood flooring, and reorganized one of the upstairs bedrooms so it could be livable during the summer heat. During July I continued to do prep work on the kitchen counter, prepped the old stainless trim for the counter, haphazardly installed the stainless trim on the counter edge (this still needs more work), removed a humidifier from the furnace that hasn’t worked since I bought the place, and patched the resulting holes in the furnace with galvanized steel.

So I’ve done a little work around the place; just not enough to satisfy myself or really anyone else. Wait. Who else would care? Good question. During my monthly visits to see my Dad, his wife plods through a series of standard questions, one of which is meant to uncover what I’ve gotten done on the house. And when I tell her what I have gotten done during the previous month, I get attitude, something like “Just what DO you do after work every night?” That is big talk from someone who sleeps about fourteen hours a day, and only held a job for a few years out of her long life. Oops! I said something negative about a family member. I have been warned that I can’t have that sort of content on here. Oh, well. Too late.

Okay. Maybe in another four months or so I’ll have another post about the meager progress I’ve made on the house remodel. Maybe. Maybe not. Time will tell.