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looong weekend
November 30, 2006
Sheese...nothing like writing a long-ass post, and not posting it...
Spouse got home Wednesday evening, bearing gifts for his wife and a grudge against his S-I-L. He decided she was a first-class flake, and I was worthy of a 48-piece box of personally selected artisanal chocolates from Ethel�s, and a pair of high-end CZ round solitaires (he knows how I feel about diamonds), � carat TW, set in platinum-over-sterling.
Niiiiice.
His antipathy for the S-I-L made for a bit of tension at Thanksgiving dinner, though. As did E�s unwillingness to drag herself off of Facebook long enough to socialize in the real world, and the constant bickering and tension between P and E. Good food, but otherwise, not a lot of fun. P sent a ton of leftovers home with us, including an entire pumpkin pie.
Friday was kind of interesting; although we are very committed to boycotting �door-busters� and �Black Friday� shopping hysteria, the fact was we couldn�t avoid shopping altogether, because we needed some stuff. Not bullshit stuff like blueray players and the like, but actual stuff people need--like my meds, and supplies to stem the crimson tide, and a new pooper-scooper.
And Cool-Whip for my pumpkin pie.
Shut up.
So after 10:00 am, we went to Hell-Mart, and to Walgreens, and stopped at Lowe�s for Christmas decorations (yes, that�s what I said), and then drove out to the new Mattel outlet in Wilmot for the annual Toys for Tots shopping. Another great savings there; we got about $150.00 worth of toys for $55.00. We were able to afford nine really nice, name-brand toys for the donation barrel.
On Saturday, the weather was gorgeous, so Spouse concentrated on his project of choice�he decided he needed to put up some outdoor decorations for Christmas. In addition to dragging out whatever was still usable in our old stuff, he bought several strings of LED lights, a new wreath for over the garage, and a 4.5 foot inflatable Santa.
He didn�t overdo, and it looks quite nice, actually. But it kind of puts me in the position of having to put up the damn tree, since how dumb is it to decorate the yard and do absolutely zip inside the house? I�ll do that next weekend, I suppose.
While he was busy doing his lighting and wiring and such, Nephew and I went up to Milwaukee to see the Broadway on Tour production of �Rent�, with Anthony Rapp and Adam Pascal.
Oh, of course it was great. We went to the matinee, and it seemed like they were holding back a bit�maybe saving their voices, since they had another show to do. And we got the understudy for Angel; he was decent, but maybe not quite up to the acrobatic nature of the role. (Of course, I bawled like a baby when he died. Just like always.)
And when Anthony and Adam let it all out, and belted �What You Own� out with all their might�I got goosebumps, and chills, and a feeling I couldn�t identify at first, but turned out to be utter, complete, joyous satisfaction.
I don�t feel that one often, and lately I haven�t been feeling much of anything at all but a gnawing, undefined dread.
But they got to me. Two performers I love, singing a song I love, in a show I love. Live, in person. And Goddammit--FOR ONCE IN MY DAMNED LIFE, I GOT TO BE THERE.
I guess if you come across a sliver of happiness that is perfectly honed, it can slice right through the depression and make you feel joy, even if it only lasts a moment. I never had that happen before, and I�m still trying to decide if it is a good thing, or a bad thing.
Sunday, it was foggy, rainy, cold, and grey. So we both decided on a quiet day where we didn�t have to go anywhere. I puttered about, working on my Christmas card list, and doing a research project my aunt in Phoenix had requested. She has an older acquaintance who needed some information on her son, who allegedly embezzled nearly nine million dollars and is a fugitive from justice. She knows virtually nothing about what happened; being in Arizona left her out of the local and regional news loop, since this happened back east. She wanted my aunt to help her find out something about the case on �that internet�, because all she wanted for Christmas was just to know a little about what happened. Well, since my aunt just fried her hard drive, she couldn�t help her directly�so she called me.
I don�t think Auntie would have gotten very far anyway�She had the spelling of the guy�s name, the state it happened in, and the company he worked for wrong.
That kind of misinformation didn�t slow me down much, though. I was eventually able figure out the guy in question, and then locate and print several news stories, the Department of Justice press release, the FBI wanted poster, and a .pdf containing the original 75-count, 12-page grand jury indictment.
Yeah, I don�t see how reading all that stuff about your own son would make for a happy Christmas, but different strokes, I guess.
Today was mega-stressful for me; I swear that all time off does for me is give my body a chance to re-sensitize to all the sensory-defensive triggers at the office. I was ready to climb the walls by 8:00 this morning, from all the cellophane-rattling, ice-chewing, yogurt carton-scraping, mouth-breathing, general banging shit around, caughing, wheezing, sneezing, snot-snorting--and even nail-clipping. Yes, I�m serious! Number One Worst Cubicle Noise ever, and they do it in my office!.
But that? Is just the noises. And I have earplugs to help me deal.
And I can huddle under my coat to keep the worst of the constant icy wind from blowing down my neck.
But there is simply no hiding from the smells. Short of investing in a gas mask or scuba gear, that is.
Mondays are the worst office pollution days for me, anyway. Maybe from coming off two and a half days of relatively free breathing. Maybe those who tend to overdo, overdo the most on Mondays. Maybe everyone�s laundry got done over the weekend, and the detergent and fabric softener smells are still really strong.
I don�t know. The situation is worse than ever this year, what with everyone going crazy spraying disinfectants and wiping their with sanitizing wipes and slathering themselves with scented germ gel, then applying lotion 50 times a day to counteract the alcohol in the hand sanitizer. All of these items are highly scented, to the point where I come close to gagging and vomiting at least once a day.
Oh, and all of a sudden, it has become an office fad to put a reed-style air �freshener� (or as I like to call them, �stink-sticks�) in one�s cube, further compounding the odor issues.
So, in short: I was a twitching bundle of nervous short-circuits by the end of the day. And that isn�t even bringing the actual work into the whole equation.
I'm fuckin' exhausted, and I'm going to bed.
Reading:
�Ruth Fielding At Lighthouse Point, or Nita, the Girl Castaway� By "Alice B. Emerson", Copyright 1913 (Ruth Fielding #4) Yeah, I realize that this is the fourth one with a 1913 publication date. They really churned �em out, didn�t they?
Surfing:
Listening: Psychedelic Furs, Pink Floyd, Jackson Browne
At Random: click here
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