Yes, I slept until 11:00 this morning, and dang if it didn't feel good. Following that, I did nothing at all, and it was everything I hoped it could be. My wonderful weekend was cut short mid-afternoon, however, when I discovered that a large pile of firewood needed to be moved an absurdly short distance. It's almost worse when it really doesn't need to go farther than twenty feet, since there really is no time saving method one could use to transport the felled tree. At least over larger distances one could use a truck and/or trailer and continually tell themselves that it would have been a lot worse if they didn't have access to a motor carriage. Logistics aside, the wood was relocated JUST before the rain started and promptly stopped, and I retired to the sitting room to view the History Channel for a rather large portion of the afternoon. I swear, they could talk about the history of the spoon and I would find it interesting... There must be subliminal messages afoot here; there is no other explanation for the history of the ballpoint pen to be that engrossing.
The weekend was just the finale to my lackluster New Year's extravaganza. I spent that particular evening with a group of semi-close friends and/or acquaintances. None of whom consumed any libations or became inebriated as to provide entertainment, and I lost three straight games of pool (billiards for you more distinguished gentlemen.) For the life of me, I can't figure out all of the angles involved, and upon the common occurrence of finding myself with no straight forward shot, I just strike swiftly and indiscriminately and hope for the best. New Year's behind me, and I didn't even have to watch some stupid ball drop. The week was not entirely without merit, we staged a quaint little fireworks display at work (still waiting on that video, Manteca!) and yesterday I played a rather engrossing game of chess with an old friend. Minor pleasantries aside, New Year's just seems rather trite this year. The fact that I haven't departed terra firma in more than three weeks merely exacerbates the problem; I believe, however, that the major source of my mood resides in the fact that I seem to think in terms of fiscal years. That's right folks, it ain't "new year's" until July 1'st!
Jeff C.
Where's the Tylenol?
