What I did instead of sleeping like a normal person last night

I had, of course, been drinking.

Whenever you find yourself staring out a window and thinking about your inescapable mortality while Jack’s Mannequin is plaintively wailing through the speakers – you have, of course, been drinking.

(You are also the same person who has spent six hours clicking through StumbleUpon while a ‘Real Housewives of Orange County’ marathon was on in the background, so frankly, your profound thoughts on the precious value of our fleeting moments lack a certain credibility.)

This is the contradiction that was bothering me:

On one hand, we have a world full of the most constant and shallow stream of information that humans have been able to invent. Twitter, Facebook, HuffPo, YouTube, texting, email on your smartphone, Tivo, Netflix, On Demand, Hulu…. The whole world seems designed to keep us from thinking about anything in depth, or from thinking about much at all.

On the other hand, thanks to cable news, websites and the 24-hour news cycle, there are constant reminders all around you that life is fragile and ends randomly and violently and suddenly with no forgiveness. Actually… maybe it’s not surprising we’d rather go back and look at more Lolcatz.

There are dozens of clichés about this: Live like you were dying. Live like it’s your last day on earth. Every moment could be your last. Like a lot of clichés, though, they’re also true.

Sometimes, it depresses me in the strangest ways. “My time here is so limited, and I have to spend most of it cleaning my house or drudging away at work. Why do I have to waste my few moments of life doing laundry when my mortality is staring me in the face?!?!” Of course, the answer is that even Mother Teresa had to wear a clean habit, so put your whites in the dryer, St. Francis.

Sometimes, it just overwhelms me, because I don’t know what it is I feel I SHOULD be doing instead of… you know, what I’m doing now. I just think it should be more grand and meaningful and memorable. I’m like an existential Underpants Gnome.

I didn't reach any conclusions. Well... that's not completely true. I reached plenty of conclusions last night about how I was going to make the most of every moment and do something that truly made a difference every single day and not live so pointlessly or cautiously.

And then this morning, I walked Charlie and cleaned the kitchen.

Because even Ghandi had to drink from a clean cup.

Bottle of Pinot Grigio last night, half a pot of coffee this morning... I should buy my liver flowers or something.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.5.9

Do I need a reason?

Deciding to blog every day smacks of hubris in some ways – why should I assume that this is a decision of note, or that anyone else would give up two seconds of their time to see what I’ve decided to spray all over the internet this morning?

However, there are some reasons that are good enough for me:

1. It’s time to contribute. Between reading blogs and tumblr and Twitter and news sites and TV sites and magazine sites, I consume a preposterous amount of material on line. One day it struck me that I’m not contributing to this in any way – I only consume. I’m not under any illusion that the web needs another blogger. It doesn’t. In fact, having one more random person writing about why shoelaces are so weird might finally crash the network and we’ll all be doomed.

But still, I felt like it was time to be a contributor. Sorry about that, future civilizations.

2. I miss writing. I like writing. I like writing every day, as it presents a façade of discipline. (…she says as she is still unshowered, the pets need to be fed, and there’s no coffee brewing yet.)

3. Now my friends are doing it, too, and I LOVE that.

4. I love reading my friends’ blogs, so maybe they like mine, which is good enough for me, because…

5. …it doesn’t really matter if this gets read or not. I don’t know if that sounds cynical or pitiful or what, but it’s true. I just want to write. Obviously, I want to share what I write, or I’d leave this in the Word document where it starts, but still – writing is the primary point.

(If you ARE reading this, and I hope you are because I'm a total hypocrite, why do you blog?)

We do it every day

Ever since an ill-advised moment of weakness in a pet store 3.5 years ago, my day has started the same way. Like this.

We live on the third floor, so every morning, Charlie and I trot down three sets of stairs in varying stages of awake. We get to the bottom, and...

...we begin our walk.

I dress like a homeless person.

Charlie takes a business meeting, then runs around like a lunatic while I pick up his waste, because apparently that's what you do as a species after you develop opposable thumbs: you find an animal without them and say, "Hey, I'll give you food and handle your poop!"

Finally, after about 30 minutes of neighborhood inspection, we go home and start the day.

Endorsed: This Wedding

I don't know Nick & Surya, but Amy Moss at Eat Drink Chic endorsed their color palette, and I LOVE their wedding pictures.

http://jonaspeterson.com/wedding/wedding-nick-surya-basalt-colorado/

Dustbuster

I have a dustbuster problem.

Not with the actual dustbuster – the actual dustbuster is four years old and still going strong. (I have a Black & Decker 15.6V Cordless Cyclonic Hand Vac Model # CHV1568 and I give it two thumbs up – you’re welcome for the endorsement, B&D.)

The problem is that, while my dustbuster looks like this…



…when Mike looks into a perfectly clean, well-organized room and sees the dustbuster plugged in somewhere, like in the corner or under the desk, he sees this:



He has a deep and abiding hatred for the sight of this little cordless handvac that I can’t begin to fathom. “WHY is that thing just OUT there? It looks terrible. TERRIBLE.” Mike is pretty sure that every person on Hoarders started with a dustbuster charging in a visible spot.

I can’t complain too much, though, because Mike is also the only reason our entire house doesn’t look like a dorm room. Some people have a true gift for interior design; some people decorate their homes and hope for the best; and some people have changed addresses once a year for the past 30 years, so her idea of moving in is having a couch and a bed and a table, unpacking some of the boxes (definitely the ones with clothes in them and some of the books), putting a picture on the table, and having most of the kitchen utensils in drawers. My therapist calls it a detachment disorder. I call it convenient.

Either way, Mike’s actually got a talent for making this place look like adults with jobs live here.

At first, he’d ask me questions about this ottoman or that painting. I’d grunt and shrug, then go back to digging through the boxes in the closet looking for a flashlight or a deck of cards or my social security card or whatever. Then he’d go online and a few weeks later – boom! Dining room table! Boom! Rug in the living room!

I finally started getting in on the game. I try to look at a room now and think, “If I wanted to put something in here and not think about moving it again….what would I buy?” I had a large photograph and my diploma framed and they’re both actually hanging on the walls. I was a key player in deciding which rug we got for the office. Also, the gnome that’s on top of one of the kitchen cabinets? ALL ME. This is really becoming somewhere that I’m proud of, because I’m helping it look the way it does.

But I’m also the one who bought the dustbuster.

...everyone needs a project

Jenn: I've decided I'm going to blog at least once every day for the next month.
Mike: Why?
Jenn: Because.

-----------

Mike: Are you going to drink this wine? It's still good, you know.

He points to a bottle of wine that was $4 at Publix, was opened three weeks ago, has a screwtop, and has been sitting next to the stove.

Jenn: Um, no.
Mike: Why? It's still good! It's just been, you know, decanting.
Jenn: Yeah, it decanted past drinkable and straight into Sh*ttown about two weeks ago.
Mike: Well, maybe you just don't appreciate fine things, like delicious decanted wine, huh? Blog about THAT.

----------

So. Day 1 - DONE.

NAILED IT.

It's amazing I can walk, much less run...

I ran 3.5 miles, which I have done several times before in recent memory. However, tonight was just Not A Good Run Night. I got a shin splint; my right knee started throbbing; I think my heart skipped a few beats at one point. I was just glad to get home and ice my shins.

So I drank water and ate applesauce, we ate dinner, and then were sitting on the couch.

That's when my foot cramp started. At first, it was one of those "Oweeeeee my toe is going into a strange muscle spasm and looks shriveled" spasms. Then it turned into "my foot looks like a dried mango" cramp and I started howling. Mike was slightly alarmed, and said, "OK, drink water, stand up, and stand on your tiptoes."

So I did.

And THAT'S when the calf cramp kicked in. So with great presence of mind, I dropped to the floor.

Mike was all take-charge-I-worked-in-a-GNC-in-college guy at this point, and said, "Just lay down flat on the couch!" So I'm lying on the couch with Charlie's ass RIGHT in my face, and Mike's stretching out my foot and leg, but every time he let go of my toes, the cramp kicked right back in.

I've been hobbling around for a few minutes, pounding water, and it seems to be subsiding. I am so feeble. Gawd.


I was at least a 4 on the Allie scale:
http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/02/boyfriend-doesnt-have-ebola-probably.html

Upon Returning From a Walk on a Spring Evening

Me: Charlie, what's in your mouth?

Charlie: Numpfingh

Me: There is clearly something i-

Charlie: Mmmpf uhhuhh numpfigh! Mmpfnghh! Ope ah ahhhh.

Me: Drop it. Drop. Droooop.

Charlie: <Slowly, reluctantly opens his mouth. A small frog hops out and hightails it for the grass.>

Me: You're ridiculous. You know that, yes?

Charlie: I could use some water and a snack, lady.

-----
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Tree Lobsters!: Flu

Tree Lobsters!: Flu

Presented Without Comment

Headline of the week:

Rush Limbaugh has Balls of Steele

What separates us from the animals?

Charlie generally has three responses to something new and unknown:

1. Chew on it
2. Pee on it
3. Bark at it

Generally the basic human responses, too...

Well, THAT'S new

I ran 3 miles in 30 minutes tonight, and it was easy! I even got faster every mile.

I might finish the River Run after all...
-----
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

This counts as cross-training, right?

I'm moving again. It's been 2 years since the last move, and I'm only moving two miles down the road, but it's still... moving.

I'm enjoying the evaluation phase of moving - where you look at each thing you own and ask yourself if you like it enough to pick it up at least twice. Amazing how often the answer is, "Ummmm, no." It also seems to be directly related to how heavy said item is.

I'm also enjoying what I call Moving Christmas - where you find all these neat things that you've completely forgotten you own. I will never need to buy another iPod charger or set of earbuds again. Ever. In this life or the next. I also seem to have a habit of getting a prescription filled and then forgetting I did.

And I'm enjoying the new place - I really like it, and it's spacious enough that I love the feeling of having a blank canvas that I can paint, but with my STUFF. Deciding where to put each item, how to decorate each room, how to organize the closets (yay!) is very pleasing.

Lifting lots of heavy things and getting cardboard paper cuts? Still sucks. After all, it is still moving.

Danger looming

My reaction to minor work stress, boredom, and tasks I don't want to do?

Snacking.

I figured out some effective ways to fight this. I don't keep any cash on me and I bring portioned, healthy snacks to work. Baby carrots, a Clif bar, pretzels and lots of water.

This has resulted in an alarming level of self-loathing - parts of me really hate other parts of me. More specifically, my stomach hates whatever b*tch part of me is hiding the Cheetos.

If I keep it up, there may be all-out civil war. I'm a little scared.

-----
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry