Sure I can!
I've been off since last Friday. Before you give me the "Oh, thanks for rubbing it in my work-soaked face," let me say that one of those off days was an unpaid, furlough day. So stick that in your judgment pipe and smoke it. Actually, don't. Smoking kills.
Here's the rundown of happenings in the past few days, including my move:
- You will never get too old to be happy your parents pay for stuff. It doesn't happen often anymore- which is the way it should be- but there is a certain joy to go to a restaurant and have your dad reach into his wallet and say, "I've got this one." It's good that happened this weekend, too. Otherwise, it would have been an awkward pause, ending with my dad intermittently staring at the bill and at me, then me saying, "So... How about that bill, eh? Think we can make it to the parking lot before they notice?"
- This weekend brought out my inner freak. No, not that. I'm low on syrup and I don't own a cat. The other thing- electronics. I spent an afternoon hooking up all my gadgets, because at some point in life, I thought it'd be a good idea to take an interest in buying multiple electronics that make it increasingly difficult for me to perform the simple task of watching television. The back of my TV stand looks like an audio visual cemetery, with wires strewn haphazardly in their final resting place until my next move. I claim to know how all the wires work, but that's a farce. I also claim to know how to drive a stick, but if I tried it on your car it'd sound like I'm making love to your grandmother with a monkey wrench and a cane.
- Capricorn is an orderly, neat person. So I gave her free reign to put everything in the apartment exactly where she thinks it should go. I hope one day she shows me where she put everything.
- The process of moving brings to life the trivial objects in your life that on any other day you could give three sheets to the wind about. I spent multiple minutes talking about Lazy Susans, light bulbs, disinfectant, picture hangars and bed sheets. I imagine this is what hell is like, except you never actually move- you just talk about things you'll need for when you move. And, Britney Spears will shave your head. With a rusty blade. Oh my God, y'all!
- I am already scoping out the neighbors. No, not for hot chicks- I'm already dating the hottest girl anyway. I'm scoping them out so I can more easily categorize them into stereotypes: The Thumper (Neighbor who walks like an elephant and is always heard through the wall), the Screamer (Always arguing with boyfriend/girlfriend), the Inconsiderate Prick (Never picks up after dog, takes up two spaces, hates kittens and Jesus), etc. Introspective moment: What neighbor would you be? Racquel, you wouldn't be that neighbor who has crazy loud sex or has drunken tirades, would you?
- New neighborhood means Bailey has to re-mark everything. After a long walk yesterday, this complex is officially his bitch. I wish people could mark an area the way dogs could. Some new dude comes in to interview for my job, I mark the front door and growl. I also might hump his leg.
- I now have a blog room (though I'm still putting things away). In what others might call a den or office, I have made the second bedroom into a little blog zen place, with a TV, recliner and tray table for easy blogging. Capricorn thinks it's a great idea, although that might be because she can watch oversized family shows like "17 and Counting" on the big TV while I'm huddled away like a blogging J.D. Salinger for a few hours.