Remember When I Used To Post Twice a Week? Neither Do I!
That was years ago. Keep up, people.
I’m just going to type whatever comes into my head. I’m sure it will be fascinating.
Until recently, I would type two spaces after a period, which is a holdover from the days of typewriters and Courier font. Even though I’ve been using a computer for almost 30 years, I’ve continued to uselessly type two spaces after a period until about three weeks ago when I said to myself, “hey, you can probably stop that now.” It saddens me to think of all those wasted spaces.
I was trying to find a picture of the first computer I used, but it’s so ancient that even the internet does not acknowledge its existence. It was called a IV-Phase and it was just a green-screen monitor and a keyboard, the actual memory part of it being located in a different room overseen by a guy named Al. It sounds primitive, but I believe the III-Phase was comprised of a stick and a rock, so we were quite lucky to live in the times we did. Al was our computer expert because his desk happened to be closest to the room where the vacuum tubes or reel-to-reel tapes or whatever it was we were using for data storage were kept. Al used to ask me every Friday afternoon if I had a hot date that weekend or if I had a cold date that I could warm up. And then he’d laugh a laugh that sounded like, “heh. Heh heh heh.” I don’t miss Al at all.
Part of the reason I haven’t been posting, aside from having nothing better to talk about than that idiot Al, is that I have found the internet to be exhausting lately. People seem especially angry these days. I’ll go online in the morning, intending to write a post, but after reading through a few blogs/tweets/forum posts, I find myself saying,
After that, I look at some cat photos and go about my day. There should be more cat photos on the internet is my point. More cats and fewer pissed people spouting off about things they don’t understand.
Incidentally, while I’m thinking of it, those of you who refer to your pets as “jerks” or “assholes” because they behave like animals, which, spoiler alert, they are? I don’t like you.
Since we last spoke, I was almost killed by prescription medication for the second time in less than a year. Excellent work, pharmaceutical industry! I could talk more about this, but it all falls under the heading of what my friend Marius terms, “I am old, please come and throw garbage on me,” so let’s just move on.
In addition to my decrepit humanity, my house and everything in it is falling apart as well. Last fall, I had to have the chimney rebuilt, which was okay because although it meant dealing with strangers, they were outside the house on the roof rather than inside the house trying on my shoes and underwear when I wasn’t looking. A couple of months ago, my refrigerator gave up the ghost and I had to get rid of it, as well as a few thousand unfrozen cavemen shrimp. Oh and the milk! My god, the milk. That was a day I won’t soon forget. Soon after the new fridge with its inadequate crisper drawers was installed, my dishwasher started making a strange noise but not all the time. So for now, I’m just staring at it while it runs, thinking, “please don’t be broken please don’t be broken pleeeeease.” Because that seems better than doing nothing. After that, the battery on my lawn mower went into semi-retirement. Being unable to decide whether I want to buy a new battery for $200 or a new mower for $400, I have in the meantime been mowing 3/4 of the lawn with the power mower until the battery is drained, finishing the lawn with the push mower, then collapsing in a heap because push mowers are ridiculous. I mean, I love the earth as much as the next person (assuming the next person isn’t Rand Paul or Marco Rubio), but I love not dying of a heart attack in my backyard more. Finally, I decided to tackle removing the oddity that is the wall paneling covering one wall of the spare bedroom, which a previous owner installed in roughly the year 7 BC, a year in which glue or nails evidently did not exist, so instead he used black tar. That was a fun surprise! I have no idea how I’m going to fix it, but I’m guessing it will involve hiring a professional contractor to come over, overcharge me, use my bathroom several times a day, and not finish the job even close to the day promised because instead of working, he was hanging out in my bedroom trying on my shoes and underwear.
I was trying to think of a happy way to end this post when there was a knock at the door. I think you know how I feel about that. I approached with trepidation only to see the retreating form of the UPS man. IT’S A PACKAGE FROM AMAZON! YAY! HAPPY TIMES! YAY! IT’S … oh, it the hose nozzle I ordered last week. Even so. It’s something.