23 March 2009


If I don't write right now, at this very moment, then I know it wouldn't be written at all. 

By the way, January is nearly over.  February, in all of its infinite clumsiness, is casting its great shadow over our lives.  Prepare ye, prepare ye your schedules of confusion.

Did that sentence make any sense?  None to me either.

Oh, I'm so tired.  My eyes are bleary, my mind is heavy.  This week ends.


I was going to come back last night with a few more words about my adventure to the car dealership.  But now it's too late, and it's all out of my system. 

No, it's not.  If it really were, then I wouldn't be in front of my computer, beating the keys.  Actually, I'm simply rambling.  I figure that one of these thoughts in my mind might take hold or spark another emotion.  But writing with emotion might give too much away at this point.

Phooey.  I'm exhausted.  I'm writing tomorrow's entry right now.


Man, I'm late.  I must catch up.

Which, I might add, isn't a whole lot to catch up on.  Let's see, well...I can synopsize the past few days (48 hours) in a much smaller time frame (18 hours).  I worked.  And I don't really remember much other than that right now, I'm afraid.

Tonight, after visiting my wife at her job, I decided spur-of-the-moment to visit a few car dealerships on my way home.  Bad idea.  First, you don't just "drop by" dealerships.  You park, introduce yourself to Mike or Phil or Edwin or whoever.  Then they "invite" you into their wonderfully bright happy office, with 50,000 yellow balloons with smiley faces and banners with inexplicable numbers written all over them. 

Then they ask you to sit down (bad news) while they go get a "guest sheet".  I always give them bogus information.  Always.  Because sometimes, I just don't want Edwin knocking at my door, thank you.

After a barage of personal questions relating to everything unnecessary, you proceed to all-defensive mode.  And then, for some baffling reason, these salesmen feel prompted to "talk to their manager."  Why?  Why do you have to talk to your manager when I just informed you, three times, that I wasn't interested in buying anything?

What exactly do they talk about behind those great glass walls?

Why do they like to laugh so much?

I decided to take a gamble and see what they would say if I told them my budget was $35,000.  Surprisingly enough, they almost scoffed.  They actually pretended that I wouldn't get much for that price....that if I wanted a really family car, I'd be spending much, much more.

And I really love that when you tell them you're interested in a different brand of car, they become extremely belligerent and inform you that you'd only get that car if it were A. Used and B.  Teal.

So I have a new rule.  When they need to talk to their manager, I walk. 

Seven months.  Happy anniversary, sweetie.  You're the best.

More later.


Novarg.  True story.

Monday, January 26th, 6:45pm.

"Hmm, what's this?  A strange attachment from someone that I don't know?"

"Yes", said my conscience. "Be careful."

"I'd better scan it for viruses, just to be safe."

"Um, ok.  Or you could delete it"

"No, it could be important.  I'll just scan it really quick."

"Please don't be stupid."

McAfee VirusScan - E-mail scan completed successfully. No virus found!

"Well, not a virus in sight.  I guess I'll...just...open...it...After all, it's only a text file, right?"

"I'm outta here."  And there went my better judgement.

"Strange...nothing but garbage binary.  I'll just delete it."


"No it's not in use!  It's a stupid text file.  Delete!"


<Banging head against keyboard> "NO, it's not.  Delete!  Garbage can!  Gone! </Banging head against keyboard>




And the moral to my story is:  There is none.  As there is no. excuse.


The best news?  I have a window with a near perfect view of the sunset.  From the sky's velvet canopy, light cascades toward the horizon in a stunning gradient of blue and white.  The area just above the surrounding buildings is light gray, and the clouds have no texture.

It's not perfect, but I'm going to love living here.

The move went as I'd anticipated, with a few bumps along the way.  With the help of a few friends and family members, we were able to complete the transition in about seven hours.  I'm still recouping from the weekend.  Every portion of my body aches.

The new place is just big enough for us.  There is plenty of open carpet space to sprawl out on, and all of our furniture fits without cramping.  The most noticeable benefit is that the computer is no longer in the dining room.  What a boon, says I.

But the weekend went by too fast.  I hardly remember anything other than moving, and I want some more time to enjoy the apartment with my wife.  Poor thing, she hasn't even been home, really.  Right after the move, she went to work.  She hasn't slept in days, it seems.  But she's pretty tough, and she'll get to sleep in tomorrow for sure.

That's it.  The sun has set, thus placing its darkening influence over my mind.  Best to all, and may I add a thank you to all of the frequent visitors.  Send an e-mail, eh?

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