Sunday, December 29th, 2019

Everyone drinks coffee to kickstart their morning, so why doesn’t everyone drink it straight, dark, bitter? I don’t understand why anybody puts stuff in coffee. Milk, sugar, syrup — it all takes the edge off, so what’s the point? If you want a frou-frou drink with frou-frou smells first thing in the morning, drink tea.

coffee vs tea | 9:43 am CDT
Category: coffee, food & drink, yet another rant
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Saturday, December 28th, 2019

I didn’t have enough vacation time this year to take last Thursday and Friday off, which a lot of people did, so I was in the office, bleary-eyed and not especially bushy-tailed, before the sun came up on Thursday morning.

The office was silent as a graveyard. I debated with myself over whether or not to make coffee. I myself was going to drink tea that morning, and I figured that the few people who were in to work that morning would be Keurig-users. The people who drink from the pot seem to be mostly management types, and I figured they wouldn’t be around. But, what the heck, I brewed a pot anyway and made it strong, just in case there was anyone in the office who needed a kick in the pants that morning.

Lucky thing, because there was more than one. I went back to the kitchen at about nine-thirty to make myself another cuppa and saw the pot was almost empty. Must have been more than a few people who needed a jolt that morning. Brewed another strong pot that was almost gone before lunch time.

Same thing happened Friday morning. There must have been a lot more people working the in-between days than I thought, and apparently they didn’t get much sleep.

Making coffee at work | 4:48 pm CDT
Category: coffee, coworkers, daily drivel, food & drink, office work, work
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Tuesday, December 24th, 2019

melted coffee pot“Do you smell something burning?” My Darling B asked me the other night as I was watching something on television.

I put the program I was watching on pause, because that’s how you smell things better, and sniffed the air.

“No,” I answered, “but then I can’t smell much at all right now.” We’re both getting over headcolds that were so bad they would, in the middle ages, have been characterized as some version of the plague, or at least a witch’s curse.

B went back to doinking around on Facebook and didn’t appear to be too concerned, so I continued watching television for exactly one and a half minutes, stopping when B looked up again, sniffed the air and said, “Something *is* burning.”

I paused the video again and sniffed the air. Nothing. I looked around for signs of smoke, but didn’t see anything like that, either. B waited about ten seconds for me to get up and look around, but my feeling was that if she wasn’t concerned enough about the smell of something burning to get up herself, then I wasn’t too worried, either, particularly when I didn’t smell anything at all.

She went through the dining room into the kitchen. “Oh, SHIT!”

Well. That’s probably not good.

After finally levering my butt off the sofa and joining B in the kitchen, I found that the coffee pot I set on the stove top when cleaning up after dinner was leaning at an angle toward the small burner in the front corner which was, coincidentally, still switched on at a very low setting but still hot enough, evidently, to melt the plastic base of the coffee pot. We have a stove with one of those flat black ceramic tops that heats up pots and pans by way of magic. We frequently use it as extra counter space because our kitchen is so small, even though we know that’s probably not a good idea, for obvious reasons. I rescued what was left of the coffee pot, then fetched a putty knife from the garage and scraped as much of the melted plastic as I could off the stove top.

We were still going to need the coffee pot in the morning, so I whittled down a cork from a wine bottle and hot-glued it into the gap melted out of the bottom of the pot, giving it a pirate’s peg-leg so it could stand upright on the countertop in the morning. It’ll serve until its replacement arrives in the mail sometime after the holidays.

And for the foreseeable future I guess I’ll have to jump whenever B asks if I smell something burning.

sniffing the air | 10:47 am CDT
Category: fun with electricity, housekeeping, random idiocy
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Sunday, December 22nd, 2019

I am so sick of being sick. I feel like if I don’t stop coughing soon my sides will cramp up so hard I’ll never be able to relax my muscles again and I’ll walk around bent over like an ambulatory question mark for the rest of my life.

cramp | 1:19 pm CDT
Category: daily drivel | Tags:
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Friday, December 20th, 2019

And once again I’m home doing my best to recover from an attack of the coughing crud. I’m not sure if I’ve had a relapse of the old coughing crud I thought I’d gotten over, or this is a different strain of coughing crud that I was fortunate enough to collect right after the first run of crud. So far, I’ve got the complete set! Yay me!

I’ve been coughing and crudding since Monday night, forcing myself to go back to work and tough it out every day because I was working on a huge project that I finished yesterday. Then this morning when my alarm went off I hit snooze for the first time in years, and when I finally did roll out of bed and shamble towards the bathroom, I got about halfway there before I thought to myself, screw it, there’s no way I’m going to work today.

So I called in, fed the cats, and made a pot of coffee, in that order, then settled in for a long day of hacking and coughing and blowing my nose a lot. Managed to do just a little light housework, too, so I could justify staying home all day, because I’ve been a guilt-ridden neurotic since the day I was born so I feel I have to justify taking a day off even when the microbial world is conspiring to murder me.

home alone | 2:38 pm CDT
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Monday, December 9th, 2019

I called mom last night and one of the topics of conversation was my upcoming 60th birthday, which is in fact a year and three days from now but I didn’t correct her because, you know, 59, 60, what’s the difference?

She brings it up the topic of my age more often than she used to because she can’t get her head around the idea that the child she gave birth to seems to be as old as she is. “You can’t be 60,” she said. “I’m 60!” I totally get what she means. I usually feel like I’m about thirty years old, until I throw my back out bending over to pick up a cat toy, or stop to catch my breath as I’m scrubbing the bathtub. Being 59 (or 60, whatever) feels like that shouldn’t happen, but it does.

Fifty nine | 6:04 am CDT
Category: falling apart, Life & Death
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Saturday, December 7th, 2019

We still have the plague here. B thought it skipped her but she started feeling sick maybe three or four days ago and yesterday her boss sent her home from work. She’s got the same symptoms I had, stuffy head and hacking up gobbets of gross gunk.

I keep saying I’m on the upswing now and mostly that seems to be true, but I still have episodes when I can feel a pocket of something deep in the back of my head give way and the next few sloppy minutes will be me continually blowing hard through my nose into yards and yards of toilet paper, sooo gross.

plague update | 6:38 am CDT
Category: falling apart | Tags:
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Boo let me know it was time to get up and feed her by jumping on my bladder, walking across my stomach and clawing at the box spring after jumping to the floor as noisily as a five-pound cat can. It was quarter to four in the morning. So I got up and fed her, as you do. Six hours of sleep it enough, right?

She was sleeping with us because she’s in recovery after we had to take her to the vet who drained an abscess in her face. Boo’s face, not the vet’s. The vet had to yank five of Boo’s teeth out, too, probably making the whole deal a fairly traumatic experience, so we let her into the bedroom to cuddle up with us while she’s recovering.

We stopped letting the cats sleep with us when they learned that I really hate it when they walk on my face. After they acquired that knowledge, they did it all the time. If you’ve never wanted to strangle a cat with your bare hands, you’ve never had one walk on your face while you’re sound asleep.

They walk on my face because I’m the one who feeds them (somehow that ended up as part of my job description; I need a better union rep) and they know that I’ll get up and feed them if only to stop them from walking on my face. Locking them out of the bedroom restored regular feeding hours. I also got more sleep, which didn’t suck.

After losing most of her molars and one of her fangs, Boo has officially crossed the line into the soft-food phase of her life, and she’s enjoying it. Tiki Cat three times a day! Scooter and Sparky are insane with jealousy.

solid six | 5:46 am CDT
Category: Boo, sleeplessness | Tags:
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Wednesday, December 4th, 2019

I am so sick of breathing through my mouth.

And coughing. I could do without coughing for a while.

gasp | 6:35 am CDT
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Tuesday, December 3rd, 2019

So now it’s day seven of the monster death head cold. I thought I was on the upswing but now I’m not so sure. I spent about half the night breathing through my mouth which means I spent half the night not sleeping because I can’t sleep when I have to breathe through my mouth, pretty much a replay of the night before. Thank goodness for coffee. I’ll be drinking gallons of that stuff all day.

gasp cough snort | 6:14 am CDT
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Saturday, November 30th, 2019

And today is day four of the death monster head cold from beyond the stars, which means I’ve reached the point in my illness when I’m so frustrated about having to breathe through my mouth all the time that I fantasize about going down to the work bench looking for power tools to relieve the congestion. Or even a toilet plunger. I imagine it would be so easy to suck all the gunk out of my nose it almost makes me cry. If I thought I could get one to fit tightly over my face, I wouldn’t even stop to rinse it off.

I woke up in the middle of the night to visit the bathroom and while I was there, the thick curtain of mucus blocking my sinuses parted just long enough for me to grab a couple quick breaths through my nose. Seizing the moment, I snatched a yard or two of toilet paper from the roller and blew with all my might, relieving my nasal passages of gallons of the stickiest goo ever conceived of. There was so much goo I had to grab another handful of toilet paper and blow, and when that didn’t get the job done I grabbed more, wondering how much there could possibly be.

Turned out my nose was bleeding, which happens to me commonly in the dry weather of winter, and especially when I’m sick, so I tipped my head back and pinched my nostrils together until the bleeding stopped. On the way out the thought struck me I should turn on the lights to see if I needed to clean up at all and HOLY CRAP IT LOOKED LIKE I’D BEEN SLAUGHTERING PIGS IN THERE! Spent five minutes with a damp cloth mopping up the blood I sprayed on the tub, tiles, wall and rug.

In spite of not being able to breathe all that easily, I managed to sleep until about six-thirty this morning, almost eight hours, before I gave up and started a pot boiling for coffee. A little java in the morning clears the clotted grunge from my throat like a shot of Drano, so I choke down half a cup even though it makes my head pound. After coffee, it’s green tea all day long. It seems to soothe my throat or at least I imagine it does. The steam rising from the cup feels good, too.

Synonym for stuffed | 11:04 am CDT
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Friday, November 29th, 2019

It’s about quarter to nine on Friday morning, the day after Thanksgiving, and my sinuses are still stuffed full of whatever nasty goop sinuses fill up with when they’re infected by whatever nasty bug I got infected by. I got a pretty solid six, maybe seven hours of sleep last night before I couldn’t breath through my nose any longer; I can’t sleep when I’m forced to breath through my mouth, so I passed a half-hour or so rolling from one side to the other, loosening up the gunk that was plugging my head. When it was finally ready to harvest, I rolled out of bed, toddled off to the bathroom, yanked a couple yards of toilet paper off the roll and blew and blew and blew and blew and blew and I still didn’t get all the gunk out. It’s going to be an all-day project.

stuffed | 8:55 am CDT
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Thursday, November 28th, 2019

It’s about twelve-thirty as I type these words and I should be about halfway to Arkansas right now. My Darling B and I had plans to travel to my mom’s house, where we would stay for three nights over the holiday weekend. For a while earlier this week it looked as though the weather might derail our plans but that turned out not to be the case. Instead, I fell victim to a virus that’s been going around. It started with a scratchy throat on Tuesday, blew up into congestion that filled my sinuses from top to bottom with goo more powerfully sticky than anything Gorilla Glue makes, and which left me weak and sleepy and worn-out as a bald tire. I got a solid eight hours of sleep last night with the help of a shot of Nyquil before bed, so I almost feel as though I’m starting to come back from the worst of the congested sinuses and cruddy throat. If I can get a nap and another solid night’s sleep, I just might come back from this by Saturday or Sunday, and that would be a very good thing. Nothing worse than staring into a computer screen all day Monday with a head cold pounding away at my skull.

over the river | 12:36 pm CDT
Category: daily drivel | Tags: ,
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Sunday, November 24th, 2019

I think a shower couldn’t possibly feel better than right after I’ve been cleaning the toilet, unless it’s after cleaning the toilet and dredging great big greasy blobs of hair out of the drain in the bathtub.

Our Little Red House is sixty-four years old, which means I’ve been through some pretty gnarly adventures in plumbing because sixty-five-year-old plumbing gives a house a lot of personality. The bathtub, for instance, drains into a drum trap, which means it tends to fill up with hair spiders and gobbets of grease. A drum trap has a lid you can remove to clean it out, but I’m not doing that because yuck, and also because the trap is above a finished ceiling I’m not going to cut a hole in just because some hair balled up in the bathtub drain. What I do instead is run water down the tub’s vent while I use a toilet plunger to plunge the drain. The scary-looking crap that come up out of the drain after I vigorously plunge it a dozen or so times would make you scream for your mama.

Compared to the grunginess I feel after plunging out the tub’s drain, cleaning the toilet is relatively benign, but it’s still a toilet and the brush still sprays my arms and sometimes my face as I scrub out the bowl. I would pay so much money for a toilet brush that didn’t spray, but what I’d really like to spend so much money on (and I know I’m sounding like a broken record about this subject) is a toilet that cleans itself. Landing on the moon is cool and all, but a self-cleaning toilet is what I would consider the epitome of technological advancement.

So after covering myself in the grunge from the bathtub drain and getting sprayed with toilet water, I took an almost indecently long, scalding hot shower and enjoyed every second of it like I’ve enjoyed only a handful of showers in my life.

most enjoyable shower | 2:36 pm CDT
Category: adventures in plumbing, housekeeping, Our Humble O'Bode, random idiocy, scrub-a-dub-dub, yet another rant
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Wednesday, November 20th, 2019

We were wondering the other day if there’s a word or phrase to describe songs you’re done with. I mean, other than the phrase I just used. I was thinking maybe there’s an already-established phrase, or one of those mile-long Latin words. That’s what we were wondering about. But “songs you’re done with” will work just fine, too.

I don’t remember which song came on the radio to make us think about this, but for instance: “Another One Bites The Dust” is a song I’m done with. I still think it’s a perfectly good song and I’m not suggesting it should be banned from the airwaves or anything like that; all I’m saying is that I’ve heard it approximately forty-two million times, so I’m done hearing it. If I’m flipping through radio stations and I hear it, I don’t even pause. There is no desire to stop. I’m done hearing it. The audio teleomere in my brain that marked the number of times I would ever want to hear that song (among others) has been set to zero.

Oh, I remember the song that started this conversation: Frank Sinatra’s recording of “My Way.” In a story on NPR yesterday morning they claimed that this was the most-requested song at karaoke bars and funerals, just one more good reason to avoid both, in my opinion.

songs you’re done with | 6:05 am CDT
Category: entertainment, music, random idiocy
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Tuesday, November 19th, 2019

I spent the weekend with My Darling B doing pretty much nothing, and apparently we needed a weekend just like that because we slept like bears in hibernation.

We didn’t do exactly nothing. We did, in fact, travel to Lake Mills, Wisconsin, to attend the twentieth anniversary party of the Tyranena Brewery (long may they continue to brew the most delicious beer in Jefferson County!), an event where we mostly sat quietly sampling various wonderful brews and noshing on noshies. Low-impact events are our lifestyle now.

The beers that Tyranena makes, though, tend to be very boozy, so we didn’t drink very many of them before we had to lie down go night-night.

We spent all day Sunday just reading or watching TV, and were both in bed by eight. Lights-out for me was eight-thirty or nine, and I slept like the dead until four o’clock Monday morning, at which point my brain said AWAKEN, so I had no choice but to go make a pot of coffee and bimble about the house.

not much how about you | 6:14 am CDT
Category: beer, festivals, food & drink, play, sleeplessness, travel
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Saturday, November 9th, 2019

I slept until five o’clock yesterday morning and believed I had successfully readjusted after we moved the clocks back. I was wrong.

reset to zero | 3:25 am CDT
Category: sleeplessness | Tags:
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Tuesday, November 5th, 2019

In a recent Twitter post, Matt Haig asked: “What is the most controversial opinion you strongly hold, and could bet your life on, and don’t mind people knowing? Mine is: astrology isn’t real.” He almost immediately followed that post with, “I regret this tweet,” which I thought was the funniest thing I read on Twitter all day.

My most controversial opinions, in no particular order, are:

Milk chocolate is an abomination. This opinion is controversial only in the fact that almost no one I know will pass up milk chocolate for dark chocolate. Dark chocolate forever! That I ever ate milk chocolate is a shame I can never erase from myself.

Vaccinations should be mandatory. Also, they should be free. That vaccines have become controversial truly saddens me. My wife has a smallpox scar on her arm; I don’t, because smallpox was wiped out by vaccines. Same with polio. I don’t understand how people do not see that the benefits outweigh the risks.

Organ donation should be mandatory, too.

People aren’t heroes just because they served in the military, and the way the general public seems to worship anyone in military uniforms is truly creepy.

And I also believe that astrology is about as real as alchemy or phrenology.

most controversial | 5:28 am CDT
Category: random idiocy, yet another rant
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Monday, November 4th, 2019

Wide awake at three this morning, dozed on and off until I gave up & rolled out of bed at four. It’s not insomnia, it’s my internal clock failing to adjust to the tick-tock clocks falling back. It used to be I was wide awake at four, dozed until five. It’ll take my internal clock at least a month to completely transition to this new time frame.

I thought we got all the tick-tock clocks reset yesterday — B even managed to reset the clock in the car, and it took her less than a minute to do it! — but I missed the one in the thermostat, which is timed to turn down the heat at ten o’clock in the evening, then crank it up again at five o’clock in the morning. And that’s why my head asploded when I woke up at three, figured out why I was awake an hour early, rolled out of bed at four to take a shower, then heard the furnace and whiplashed temporally back into daylight savings time for a few minutes until I figured out why the house was warming up an hour earlier than it should have been.

Have I mentioned yet how much I hate daylight savings time?

lagged | 5:16 am CDT
Category: random idiocy, sleeplessness, yet another rant | Tags:
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Saturday, November 2nd, 2019

I am never going to eat fried food again. And when I say “never,” I mean that I will, on occasion, eat certain fried foods, because there are some worth suffering for, like the tater tots they serve at the Vintage Brewing Company over on Whitney Way. I don’t know how they do it, but their tots are exactly the right kind of crispy-crunchy I will always say “yes” to.

But other than a few special exceptions like those tots, I have unfortunately advanced to the age where my gastrointestinal mechanism no longer produces whatever chemicals or enzymes it used to make to deal with deep-fat-fryer grease. I used to be able to eat all the french fries. Really, *all* of them. Now that I’m apparently becoming a decrepit old geezer, I can safely eat only about half a dozen without any ill effects; any more and I feel as though I’m carrying around a bowling-ball-sized lump of lard in my belly for the next twenty-four hours. It’s not a good feeling, particularly when I make the mistake of ordering a side of fries with my dinner, thinking “It’ll be all right, I haven’t had fries in a week,” and then I have to try to sleep with that bowling ball in my stomach. Doesn’t happen. Easier to sleep with a pile of bricks on top of me.

No fried foods means that most of the food at the brewpubs we like to visit is off limits to me: it’s not just fries that bloat me up, the chicken tenders that I love at most places do the same, and I’ll probably never enjoy another Friday night fish fry, although a Friday afternoon fish fry isn’t entirely out of the question; so long as I have time to walk it off, I’m good. But other than that I’ll be eating lots of wraps and salads from here on in. So long, french fries, and thanks for the fun times!

fried | 1:22 pm CDT
Category: falling apart, food & drink
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Sunday, October 27th, 2019

I just ran across another one of those “asteroid passes uncomfortably close to earth” stories and I have to ask: Why are these stories nearly always written as if asking the question: Why keep track of asteroids when the so-called smart people are obviously crap at keeping the asteroids away from earth? But I know why they’re written that way. It’s because the kind of people doing the writing are the same kind of people who go outside when there’s a hurricane to tell you there’s a hurricane.

And “uncomfortably close” is an odd way of characterizing the path of an asteroid that never got within a couple million miles of earth. I’d call it uncomfortably close when I can SEE it and the sonic boom it makes as it slices through the atmosphere shatters windows. THAT would be uncomfortably close.

near miss | 7:10 am CDT
Category: random idiocy, weather, yet another rant
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Wednesday, October 23rd, 2019

I made some smartass comment about 65-year-old Dennis Quaid getting hitched to 26-year-old Laura Savoie, to which My Darling B replied, “Okay, so, say I poisoned you so I could marry a thirty-year-old …”

“Just for the record,” I interrupted, “if you want to really want to marry a 30-year-old, please just ask. Don’t feel you have to poison me.”

switch | 6:16 am CDT
Category: daily drivel
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Saturday, October 19th, 2019

One of my coworkers brought her 6-week-old baby into the office for a visit and I suddenly remembered how wonderful baby toes are!

toesies | 8:44 am CDT
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Monday, October 14th, 2019

I was today years old when I learned that the game where you throw beanbags at a board with a hole in it is called “cornhole.” That is not a word I have heard used in polite company before. My father sometimes used that word, not in public, to refer to an act of sexual intercourse that was not allowed by law when he was a younger man.

But I found out today that this is a fairly common name for the game I have always called “beanbag toss” or just “beanbags.” I found out from an email I got at work for an annual fundraiser called “Partners in Giving.” The email subject was “Partners in Giving cornhole tournament.”

“Partners in giving cornhole” was not a phrase I ever expected to see in an inter-office email.

All but one of my coworkers refer to the game as “cornhole” so they didn’t think it was as odd as I thought, but they got a good laugh out of the surprise I got from the email, which means I’m not wrong about the name meaning something else. And after visiting several web pages to see if I could figure out how this game went from being named something as innocent as “beanbag toss” to being referred to as “cornhole,” I learned that a beanbag left on the board is called a “woody,” while tossing a beanbag so it rolls over a blocking beanbag to go into the hole is called “going through the back door.” So it seems more than likely to me the game was renamed with a sly wink, and maybe some alcohol was involved.

beanbag | 5:53 pm CDT
Category: entertainment, games, random idiocy
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Saturday, October 12th, 2019

I paid cash for my lunch at the grocery store the other day. Didn’t expect the high school guy at the register to count back my change the way cashiers used to, but I did expect him to be able to add up the values of the coins as he was making change, which he was apparently having a lot of trouble with. He started by digging out a couple of quarters, which he obviously added up in his head, then thought long and hard about whether to grab another quarter, decided not to, dug a couple of dimes out of the till and mentally added them to the quarters, then stared at the display while trying to decide how many nickels he needed. It won’t be too much longer until the register displays the change graphically: dollar bill, dollar bill, dollar bill, quarter, quarter, dime, nickel, penny, penny.

making change | 9:10 am CDT
Category: damn kids!, random idiocy, this modern world, yet another rant | Tags: , , ,
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Friday, October 11th, 2019

Gary introduced himself to me a few days after we moved to the new building. The office I worked in used to be on the eighth floor of the old building; Gary’s office used to be on the second floor. After the move we were not only both on the second floor, our offices are right next to each other, so we ran into each other in the halls, the break room, and the restroom.

I think he introduced himself when we met in the break room. He held out his hand to shake, said “I’m Gary.” I said hi, how’d you do, shook his hand and gave him my name. We exchanged a few more pleasantries before we parted.

We’ve been in the new building for almost two years and I’ve said hi to Gary almost every day. Most days, I’ve said hi to him more than once a day. “Hi, Gary,” I’ve said, and he smiled and waved and said “Hi, Dave” right back at me.

Fast-forward to yesterday morning when we ran into each other in the restroom. “Good morning, Gary,” I said.

“Hi,” he said, then added, “Eric.”

I said something super-intelligent like, “Huh?”

“Hi, Dave. It’s Eric. What did you call me? I’m a little hard of hearing.”

A little?

“Uh, Gary.”

“Oh. No, It’s Eric.”

I apologized profusely and awkwardly, we traded a few more pleasantries before we parted, and now I’ll have to quit my job, move to the Yukon and live the rest of my days in a hermitage because I can’t get people’s names right even when I believe I can remember them.

Eric | 4:30 am CDT
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Thursday, October 10th, 2019

I was cleaning out the litter boxes yesterday morning and dug up five or six little turd nuggets strung together on a long hair like they were pearls. I wanted to applaud.

nuggets | 5:44 am CDT
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Wednesday, October 9th, 2019

It’s not that I don’t have friends who have different beliefs or opinions. Everyone’s got those. It’s that I don’t have friends who have reprehensible beliefs or revolting opinions. I don’t have an ounce of regret about walking away from people like that.

degenerate | 6:01 am CDT
Category: daily drivel
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Tuesday, October 8th, 2019

When I came home from my walk the other day, I dug into my pocket for my key ring, selected a key as I climbed the stoop to the front door, then depressed the “unlock” button on the ignition key for our car.

From the garage, the car answered with two beeps. The front door did not respond in any way.

open sesame | 6:33 am CDT
Category: daily drivel, falling apart, random idiocy
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Monday, October 7th, 2019

Mom called while I was out for a walk yesterday. I got to tell her how wonderful the weather was while I was out in it. I don’t know why that pleased me, but it did.

Then we had a good laugh about the impeachment proceedings. Well, not a *good* laugh, actually. More like the laugh that people who share a tragedy sometimes have.

“Do you think he’s going to get impeached?” she asked, “or do you think the Democrats will screw it up?”

“Oh, hell, no, he’s not going to get impeached, never,” I said. “And I think it’s almost a given that the Democrats are going to screw it up.”

“But he keeps going on TV and admitting to the crimes he’s accused of! He keeps making that same mistake!”

“Yeah, the thing is, I don’t think it’s really a mistake, is it? Because he got away with it the last time, and the time before that. He keeps getting away with it. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he got re-elected.”

That brought a howl of anguish down the phone line. “You really think so?”

“I think the odds are about 50-50, yeah.”

“Well, I sure hope you’re wrong about that.”

“I’d sure like to be wrong. But I don’t believe I am.”

And then we talked about happier stuff after that, like movies and books. It was kind of an Oreo sandwich phone call.

coin flip | 4:09 am CDT
Category: daily drivel
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Monday, September 30th, 2019

Woke up way too early this morning after a dream about work. Weird thing was, whatever it was I was doing it didn’t look anything like the work I normally do. Well, it looked sort of like what I do: I was finding computer records that were supposed to be updated but weren’t, and then I was updating them. Sometimes I do that first thing, but I don’t ever do that second thing. I woke up feeling a little confused and I kept thinking about it while I went to visit the bathroom and by the time I was headed back to bed I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it, so I just didn’t go back to bed. What a great way to start Monday.

that second thing | 6:09 am CDT
Category: dreams, office work
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Sunday, September 29th, 2019

Is there anything better than taking an indecently-long hot shower on the weekend? Coz I don’t think there is.

indecent | 6:49 am CDT
Category: daily drivel
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Saturday, September 28th, 2019

I was investigating some fraud earlier this week, because that’s what they pay me to do, and I had to find out which bank used a certain routing number, which is the number that’s printed at the bottom of your checks, if you still write checks.

Luckily, I work right next door to the office where they do a lot of accounting and I figured they used some super-official web site to look up routing numbers all day long, so I walked over there and asked one of the accountants if she would look up the routing number I had.

“Oh, I just google that,” she said. “Just type in, ‘which bank is routing number 12345’ and it will tell you. It’s public knowledge; they don’t keep them secret.”

Not only don’t they keep them secret; banks publish their routing number all over their web sites. After I found out which bank I was looking for and I went to their web site, it was printed right at the top of the page with the name of the bank.

And now you know.

no secret | 8:13 am CDT
Category: office work, random idiocy, this modern world, work
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Tuesday, September 24th, 2019

We were listening to a local radio station playing a tune by the Temptations during the commute home and the record got stuck. I have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve heard an actual skipping record on the radio, but I’ll bet there are people walking this earth right now who are well into their adult lives and have never heard it. It brought back a feeling that was at least as nostalgic as hearing the Temptations.

stuck record | 9:49 pm CDT
Category: daily drivel
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Monday, September 23rd, 2019

In my dream last night I was driving to Canada in a truck-top camper. The roads were snow-covered and mostly dirt, but straight as an arrow; I don’t know if this is what rural roads in Canada are really like, but in my dream they were so straight I would frequently be in the back of the camper with whoever was with me at the time (my traveling companions changed several times over the course of the dream) while the truck sailed down the road at high speed with no one at the wheel. Very occasionally it would occur to me how cuckoo bananapants it was to do this. At one point I was eating a meal in the back with my brother and after an extended conversation I asked him, “Why aren’t you driving?” Suddenly worried, I climbed into the driver’s seat and took the wheel, whereupon the truck wandered off the road into the ditch. If that’s not a metaphor for something, I’ll eat my socks.

to the yukon | 6:21 am CDT
Category: dreams
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Sunday, September 22nd, 2019

Ordered a cup of tea with brunch at our favorite cafe yesterday morning & they brought me a cuppa that was big as a bathtub, no exaggeration. Okay, a little exaggeration. It was big as the kitchen sink. Okay, big as a bowling ball. Look, it was bigger than any cup of tea you might be able to drink in a single day. If I drank it all I would be peeing for a week. Which I would be doing anyway so that description doesn’t make a lot of sense, I can see that now. I was confused by the size of that cup of tea, what do you want from me? That thing was HUGE. I’ve never seen a cup of tea that mind-bogglingly large. There’s large, there’s extra-large, there’s enormous, and then there’s that cup of tea. I could go on but you’re not even reading this any longer, are you?

biggest cuppa | 7:23 am CDT
Category: daily drivel
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Tuesday, August 20th, 2019

Back problems persist today, but are not as bad as yesterday when I could barely get up out of my seat without shooting pain. I can get get up and sit down without much trouble today but am mindful that one wrong move can bring on the lightning bolts, so I’m moving very gingerly. There is no painkiller in our considerable stash I can use to fend off this monster. Only time and some stretching exercises, executed very slowly and carefully, will bring about its ending. There is a lot of relief in simply bending over and hanging in the position that yoga teachers call “rag doll,” which I do at every opportunity even though it makes me look a little odd when I do it in the middle of the day at the office. Thank goodness I’m used to looking odd.

persist | 6:06 am CDT
Category: daily drivel
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Sunday, July 28th, 2019

I made a little road trip to the village of North Freedom to visit the Mid-Continent Railway Museum. I’ve been living in Madison, just an hour’s drive from North Freedom, for almost fifteen years but this is the first time I’ve visited the museum. About an hour’s drive from our little red house, North Freedom reminded me of the very small town in Waupaca County where I grew up.

The museum is just outside the village proper. It’s mostly an open-air museum with a half-dozen or so examples of rolling stock in a small yard next to a railway depot. There were a couple steam locomotives that obviously hadn’t raised steam in years and were just for display, coaches and freight cars fading in the sun, and a rotary snow plow that was slowly falling apart where it stood. Across the road there was a train shed which held maybe a half-dozen coaches and a caboose, all of which had been restored to like-new condition but the doors on all of them were all locked up; there was no way to get inside and I couldn’t see much through the windows because most of them were dark inside.

There was a small diesel switching locomotive pulling a couple sun-bleached coaches into the yard when I got there and a volunteer in the depot told me I could get a ride on it at one o’clock, but I didn’t stay that long.

Mid-Continent Railway Museum | 3:00 pm CDT
Category: daily drivel | Tags: ,
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Saturday, July 27th, 2019

We got a letter in the mail last week, an actual hand-written letter which My Darling B opened because who even writes letters any more? The only handwritten mail we get now is the occasional birthday card from close family. We get a lot of letters soliciting donations that appear to be handwritten but at second glance are obviously printed using a font that looks like handwriting. Not the case with this letter we got last week: The handwriting was cramped and our last name was crunched up against the edge of the envelope.

The letter itself was written on blue card paper and read in its entirety:

Hello – our names are Mike & Rose – We really like the location of your house on (name of street). If you have any interest in selling please give us a call. Thanks!

It’s not unusual for us to get offers from realtors who want to buy our house. We probably get one a month. The housing market in Madison seems pretty hot and many of houses in our neighborhood have new owners. What’s unusual is that this particular letter was addressed by hand instead of printed and the envelope was affixed with a real first-class postage stamp, not one of those fake-looking bulk rate stamps.

My Darling B and I talked it over and decided the best possible reply to this letter would be:

We accept your kind offer on the following conditions:
1. We will vacate the house in 1 week.
2. You take possession of the house & everything in it.
3. Price of the house is not negotiable: $500,000.00 cash, paid in twenties.
4. By accepting this deal you waive all rights of rescission.
5. No questions asked.

If you accept these conditions, leave the cash in a green canvas duffel bag on our doorstep Monday morning at 6:00 am. We will vacate the house by the next Monday & leave the keys on the kitchen counter.

If you attempt to contact us in any way other than leaving the cash in the duffel bag, the deal is off.

It was so much fun to come up with this offer that, if we weren’t fairly certain we’d have the police at our door, we’d answer them just to see what else might happen.

offer accepted with conditions | 11:07 am CDT
Category: entertainment, Our Humble O'Bode, random idiocy, this modern world
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Three o’clock in the morning is too goddamn early to start my day, and yet here I am, banging out some more of this drivel after lying awake for an hour, reading several magazine articles, and catching up on some of my favorite Twitter and Instagram follows before making a pot of tea and sitting down at the keyboard. That’s just how it goes sometimes.

My best night’s sleep this week was in a hotel in Wisconsin Rapids where I tried and failed to stay awake long enough to watch all of Full Frontal with Samantha Bee. Sorry, Sam! I caught most of it, so I hope I get at least partial credit. I’m just not the night owl I would like to be, which is why I normally watch the show on YouTube, but hotels haven’t cut the cable and moved to the streaming era yet, and that’s why I was trying (and failing) not to doze off during one of my favorite shows. When I finally caved, turned off the television set and surrendered to the enveloping darkness, I slept the sleep of the just until my phone bleeped at around six-thirty. My Darling B sent me a “Good Morning!” text.

I was in Wisconsin Rapids because it’s the time of year when I drive in seemingly random circles around the state, stopping occasionally to pop into a DMV office and audit them. It’s as bureaucratically awkward as it sounds but I’m an awkward kind of guy so it’s a job that suits me, unfortunately. Some of us aspire to do great things and some of us pop into the DMV office where you are waiting to renew your driver’s license, grab the DMV employee who was just about to call your ticket number and drag him into a darkened back room for an indeterminate amount of time. All in the name of improving customer service, I assure you.

Wisconsin Rapids was littered with the branches of trees that were shattered by a line of storms that blew through the area last weekend, and I’m not exaggerating in the least when I say “shattered.” I saw oak trees that must’ve been hundreds of years old reduced to broken boughs and splintered stumps. Freshly cut-up branches were stacked along the curb of every road we drove down. I’ll bet the city lost at least a quarter and maybe as much as a third of their old-growth trees. One of the guys I talked to said in his yard alone he lost fourteen trees. He must have a pretty big yard, but still, wow. As if cleaning up all that wasn’t bad enough, the storm knocked the power out for days so a whole lot of people lost all the food in their fridges and freezers.

I left Madison with a coworker at six-thirty on Wednesday morning and drove in a big 350-mile-long circle that wound through northeastern Wisconsin, then across the midsection of the state, and finally down the middle back to Madison, where we arrived at about three-thirty Thursday afternoon. This was my first overnight trip but not my last. It’s surprising how many people I talk to believe I’m living the high life on these business trips. I can’t figure it out how they get that idea. We spend hours and hours behind the wheel of a compact car marked with The Scarlet Letter of government plates, which means we have to drive exactly the speed limit: any faster and our supervisor gets phone calls about how we drive like maniacs; any slower and she gets calls about how we’re a hazard to traffic. We have to book hotel rooms that have the cheapest rate, so we’re always next to an Interstate off-ramp where I’m jolted awake every twenty minutes or so by the explosive flatulence of a downshifting semi truck as it exits the highway. And don’t even try to make hotel breakfasts sound like a perk. I tend to go for the watery powdered eggs and heartburn in a sausage patty, but only because the bananas are usually ripe enough to attract fruit flies.

From The Ground Up coffee shop in Wisconsin RapidsWe do get to pick the restaurants we eat at, thank goodness, and we can even find a pretty good one wherever we go. In Wisconsin Rapids, for instance, we ate lunch at a cozy coffee shop called From The Ground Up. Not only did it have delicious food at a reasonable price and friendly staff who jumped to help us, it had a genuine Volkswagen bus parked on top of the rest rooms. When I asked how they even got it in there, the young woman who took my order explained they cut it in half so it would fit through the front door.

If there’s anything about these trips I might consider a perk, it’s that we frequently see something that is remarkable. On the first day of this last trip, after we’d been on the road an hour and a half or so, we passed by a farmer’s field which was apparently playing host to a meet-up of parasailers. The sky over our car was filled with dozens and dozens of wedges of multicolored nylon turning lazy circles over our heads, and more were taking off. It was magical.

on the road again | 6:51 am CDT
Category: business travel, sleeplessness, travel, weather, work
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Trump’s bigoted rants aren’t going to stop. He’s going to keep on ranting and he’s going to get more offensively racist with each rant. How much longer are we going to put up with a blatantly racist president?

DRT rants about Cummings 7-27-29

infested | 4:30 am CDT
Category: current events, random idiocy, yet another rant | Tags:
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Sunday, July 14th, 2019

As we were driving home from work last Friday night, we saw a police car flip a yooey on a main road where u-turns are illegal.

“You know, at a bare minimum the police should have to obey traffic laws,” My Darling B said.

“I hate to disagree with you,” I answered, “but, at a bare minumum, the police should not be allowed to kill anyone and, if they do, they should suffer the most dire consequences for it. At least, that’s what I’m going to ask for if I ever get my hands on the monkey’s paw.”

monkey’s paw | 2:28 pm CDT
Category: daily drivel
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The president of the United States ranting at brown and black people, telling them to go back to where they came from, is so cartoonishly racist that I never thought I’d live to see it, and yet here you go:

racist POTUS tweet 7-14-19

back where you came from | 10:55 am CDT
Category: current events | Tags:
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Tuesday, July 2nd, 2019

I went on a business trip to Racine today and used Google maps to navigate. I used to use Siri but the last time I did that she steered me into a construction project that sprawled over half of Milwaukee and I spent twenty minutes trying to get out of that, so Siri can go suck eggs now. Google maps hasn’t done anything like that yet. In fact, yesterday as we were cruising down the highway the voice of Google maps (why doesn’t she have a name?) warned us, “There’s a speed trap ahead,” and sure enough we spotted a state trooper in the weeds about five seconds later. As we passed, my phone went *ding* and a pop-up appeared: “Is it still there?” ZOMG, Google is stickin’ it to The Man now!

Fighting The Man | 8:25 am CDT
Category: business travel, this modern world
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Monday, July 1st, 2019

A congressional delegation inspected facilities operated by the Customs and Border Patrol agency where asylum-seekers were being held in inhumane conditions. The delegation included Pete Aguilar (CA31), Joaquin Castro (TX20), Judy Chu (CA27), Madeleine Dean (PA4), Veronica Escobar (TX16), Sylvia Garcia (TX29), Joe Kennedy (MA4) Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (NY14), Ayanna Pressley (MA7), Rashida Tlaib (MI13), Norma Torrez (CA35), Greg Stanton (AZ9), Lori Trahan (MA3), and Marc Veasey (TX33).

Joaquin Castro: “At the El Paso Border Patrol Station #1, women from Cuba, some grandmothers, crammed into a prison-like cell with one toilet, but no running water to drink from or wash their hands with. Concrete floors, cinder-block walls, steel toilets. Many said they had not bathed for 15 days. Some had been separated from children, some had been held for more than 50 days. Several complained they had not received their medications, including one for epilepsy. They asked us to take down their names and let everyone know they need help. They also feared retribution. We then went to the Clint Border Patrol Station that warehouses children and some parents. The tents outside, used during the surge recently, were dark and surrounded by chain link fences. The showers — mobile units — were dank, dirty and only too small in number for the hundreds of people there just a few weeks ago. And a boy, perhaps three years old, pressed his face against the dirty glass of a locked steel door. He smiled big and tried to talk to us through the thick glass. His family — or another — ate Ramen on the floor a few feet away.”

Judy Chu: “We just left the El Paso border patrol station … what we saw was appalling and disgusting. We talked to a group of women, detainees who said that they didn’t have running water, that one was an epileptic and she couldn’t get her medication. They were separated from their children. They’d been there over 50 days. One woman said that the border patrol agent told her if she wanted water, just to drink from a toilet … There seriously has to be some change.”

Madeleine Dean: “Just left the first CBP facility. The conditions are far worse than we ever could have imagined. 15 women in their 50s- 60s sleeping in a small concrete cell, no running water. Weeks without showers. All of them separated from their families. This is a human rights crisis. We were met with hostility from the guards, but this is nothing compared to their treatment of the people being held.
The detainees are constantly abused and verbally harassed with no cause. Deprived physically and dehumanized mentally – everyday. This is a human rights issue.”

Joe Kennedy: “Spent the morning in TX at Clint and El Paso detention facilities. Big takeaways — 1) CBP was very resistant to Congressional oversight. They tried to restrict what we saw, take our phones, block photos and video. Atmosphere was contentious and uncooperative. 2) Facilities are wholly inadequate. Cells maxed to capacity, concrete floors … It felt jail-like. No way to keep a child or innocent human being. Group of 13 women from Cuba were in tears when we spoke with them.”

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez: “Just left the 1st CBP facility. I see why CBP officers were being so physically &sexually threatening towards me. Officers were keeping women in cells w/ no water & had told them to drink out of the toilets. This was them on their GOOD behavior in front of members of Congress. After I forced myself into a cell w/ women & began speaking to them, one of them described their treatment at the hands of officers as “psychological warfare” — waking them at odd hours for no reason, calling them wh*res, etc. Tell me what about that is due to a “lack of funding?” Now I’m on my way to Clint, where the Trump admin was denying children toothpaste and soap. This has been horrifying so far. It is hard to understate the enormity of the problem. We’re talking systemic cruelty w/ a dehumanizing culture that treats them like animals. What’s haunting is that the women I met with today told me in no uncertain terms that they would experience retribution for telling us what they shared. They all began sobbing — out of fear of being punished, out of sickness, out of desperation, lack of sleep, trauma, despair.”

Rashida Tlaib: “We can’t just focus on the children anymore. I met grandmothers, mothers and fathers who are suffering. This is devastating. The look in one father’s eyes broke me. I can’t look away. A little boy not more than 4 years old asked me where his Papa was through a glass door. An Abuela hasn’t seen her grandson in 40 days & has no idea where he is. A woman, pregnant w/ her first child, just wants to be w/ her family in FL. A father teared up telling me that his wife, 8 yr old daughter & 14 yr old son have been sleeping on concrete floors in a tent for 4 days. They haven’t been able to shower, no real food (chips & juice boxes) & so scared of being separated.”

concentration | 8:39 pm CDT
Category: current events, this modern world | Tags:
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Sunday, June 30th, 2019

When I left home on a bike ride around the city this morning, the sun was shining, there was a warm if somewhat muggy breeze blowing, and I had every intention of making a big circle around the city and getting home again within an hour and a half.

By the time I returned home the sun was *not* shining, the wind was lashing a spray of rain across my face and the air was more than a little muggy, although I have to say it was still relatively warm, and a lucky thing it was.

I rode my normal route through the Waunona Woods neighborhood to Olbrich Park, where I turned onto a bike trail I could take all the way to the arboretum. I got to the arboretum early enough in the morning that there were almost no cars at all along the road, a big plus when it comes to enjoying a quiet bike ride through the woods. Also a big plus: spotting a doe and her fawn running through the woods. That sorta made my day.

At the other end of the arboretum, I ride through the Nakoma neighborhood to Midvale Road where I can get on the Southwest Commuter Path, a bike trail I can take straight back into town that drops me at the shore of Lake Monona. From there, I can ride north around the shore of the lake to the Capitol City Trail, which I can ride almost all the way to Monona. It’s a ride of about eighteen or nineteen miles; I can’t tell for sure because although my phone is usually pretty good at tracking me wherever I go, it frequently throws a zig or a zag into my route that adds miles to the total.

I had just come off the Capitol City Trail and was in the home stretch along Monona Drive when the first few drops of rain warned me to get off the road and under an overhang if I wanted to stay dry. Luckily, I was not far from our favorite cafe and I had worked up a decent hunger, so I pulled in and ordered a breakfast of blueberry oat cakes, which I ate while watching the rain pour down. It was not a small storm, either. I had plenty of time after breakfast to order a cup of coffee and drink it at leisure before the rain eased up enough for me to get back on my bike and ride home, and even then I still got plenty wet.

a morning ride | 3:41 pm CDT
Category: daily drivel
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Saturday, June 29th, 2019

I can hear again, and it is quite a relief.

About three weeks ago, I went to the clinic for a checkup. When the doc looked in my ears, he said something like, “I bet you can’t hear much right now.” I mentioned my increasingly irritating tinnitus, but he said what he meant was I had a shit-ton of wax in my ears (I’m paraphrasing; I can’t remember how he described it but a “shit-ton” it was, so that’s what I’m going with). He called in a tech who loaded a big-barrel syringe with warm tap water and flushed out my ears while I held a small plastic basin under the ear she was flushing to catch the water and little flecks of wax that came out.

Afterwards, the doc took another look in each of my ears, then reached into my right ear with a little plastic tool that looked sort of like a dentist’s pick and fished out a chunk of earwax about the size of a pea. He said there was one just like it in my left ear, too, but he couldn’t manage to snag it with the pick, so he told me to get some ear wax softener from the pharmacy, use that for about a week, then come back.

The first time I dribbled some ear wax softener into my left ear it bubbled and frothed and some wax came out, but it left me half-deaf like I had water stuck in my ear after swimming. I squirted some more of the softener into my ear the next day and again that night, but I didn’t get any more wax out and it still felt and sounded plugged up, so I didn’t add any more softener. Later the next day I could hear a little better, but when I laid down to sleep at night it plugged up again and didn’t unplug until late in the morning the next day. It slowly got better until I thought I could hear just fine so I didn’t used the softener again.

Then day before yesterday my ear blocked up and I couldn’t hear much out of it, not like I had water in my ear but like I had one of those foam ear plugs in it. I squirted the softener into my ear and it bubbled and frothed again but nothing came out and it didn’t unplug. I squirted some more in the next day with the same result, so this morning I stopped at the pharmacy and got one of those little plastic bulbs to squirt water into my ears. First shot of water flushed a pea-sized gob of wax and all sorts of little flecks, too. Second shot of water brought out a couple more, slightly smaller chunks, and the third shot of water flushed out another pea-sized gob. There was enough wax in my ear to sculpt a life-sized cockroach! No wonder the doc was surprised I could hear anything!

pump up the volume | 1:03 pm CDT
Category: daily drivel
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Saturday, June 15th, 2019

It began on a sunny afternoon at our local city park along the scenic Little Wolf River. My dad had recently purchased a canoe and talked me into taking a short paddle with him down a stretch of the river to a park on the opposite end of town, a trip of maybe three miles. We hadn’t paddled far when the deer flies zeroed in on us and began to attack in twos and threes. We had a spray can of Off! with us and covered ourselves liberally with it, but whatever they used to make it out of back then, it didn’t work on deer flies. If anything, it made them bite us harder just to spite is for daring the attempt to repel them.

The further we went down the river, the more deer flies found us until at one point we sighted a swarm of them rising off the water’s surface and heading our way. They enveloped us like a scene from a cheesy nature-gone-wild horror flick and attacked us relentlessly. This is when I was reduced to a blubbering sack of bleeding meat. I dropped the paddle in the bottom of the canoe and spent most of the rest of the trip slapping myself silly, wailing and crying. When we took out at the downstream park, the bottom of the canoe under my seat was a carpet of dead, bloody deer flies.

I’m pretty sure we never paddled that particular stretch of the river again.

dear fly | 11:53 am CDT
Category: daily drivel
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Saturday, June 1st, 2019

I’ve always thought a dystopian future was most likely, but in my most optimistic moments, and I did have a few of those, here’s what I thought the future of America might be like, best-case scenario:

I thought we’d get a handle on the pollution thing. I honestly don’t know how “reduce, reuse, recycle” is optional, or that anyone believes dumping garbage into anything but a carefully controlled disposal system is anything but A Very Bad Idea. How is there any question we should keep the thin, narrow layer of habitable ground we live on clean? I really thought we’d not only stop polluting and dispose of our garbage properly, I also thought we’d have cleaned up all the messes we made.

I thought we’d have stopped burning fossil fuels by now. When I was much younger, I figured we would eventually get all our power from nuclear reactors. It was a common belief then. I still think going nuclear would be preferable to burning fossil fuels, but now I think the better power source is the sun, which dumps so much power on our planet that you can feel it, even though it’s ninety-three million miles away. With our current technology, we can meet all our needs using only a fraction of the energy the sun dumps on us every day, yet we continue to burn fossil fuels because, I guess, it’s easier, or at least we think it is.

I really, really thought we’d all use mass transit a lot more than we do. By “mass transit,” I mean a transportation system like buses or trains (or any combination thereof) that everybody uses most of the time. I was pretty sure that by the time I was this old I wouldn’t have to walk more than fifteen or twenty minutes to get almost anywhere in the United States. It honestly didn’t seem impossible way back when, but I obviously underestimated by a long shot how much Americans love their cars, and now virtually all of the roads in every city in the country are laid out for cars, not walking. I’ve been in a lot of cities where it’s not quite impossible to walk from a hotel to a store or a restaurant, but they’re almost there. The fact that Americans are virtually forced to drive everywhere is so disappointing.

I haven’t said “I thought we’d treat each other like equals” because I have been so monumentally naive as to think we were almost there years and years ago. I have only recently come to realize how far we have to go to reach the point where we treat each other like equals that I’m not confident at all we ever will.

my dystopian future | 8:12 am CDT
Category: daily drivel
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Thursday, May 23rd, 2019

I showed up for my medical appointment yesterday afternoon, gave the clerk at the front desk my name and the time of my appointment. She scanned her computer monitor for a moment, then asked, “What was the name again?”

I repeated my name slowly and clearly. She scanned her screen again.

“And who were you seeing?”

I gave her the name of my physician’s assistant.

More scanning. Then: “Hm. Next Wednesday?” She looked up at me. “Do you want an appointment card?”

Ah. No. I think I’ll remember it now.

early bird | 6:14 am CDT
Category: daily drivel
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