OK, so its Sunday morning and I slept in for two hours then I got up, had breakfast, and did the dishes while listening to Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me and then my eyes stared hurting and I feel a headache coming on. I blame the Cybertruck I see whenever I look out my kitchen window.
So, let’s see what happened this last week.
Well, after last week’s Sunday post, our World of Darkness campaign got postponed since half our table wouldn’t be able to make it, and were at point in the narrative where our ST said
To be fair even with everyone it’s going to be… dicey. It means once we all get back together soon it will be go time!
So instead of game, Krystal and I went shopping for a bit, only to come home and find that someone decided to mess with my routine.
You see, for the last 9 years or so I have parked in the same parking space. Then, a few weeks ago our complex sent out a road/lot work notice and a “reminder” that “there are no assigned/owned spaces” in the complex. This was not the case when we moved in; we’re on the third or fourth company that’s owned the property.
Well, when we came back from our errands, someone had taken “my” spot and there are no other spaces open nearby. This has only ever happened on days where road work was being done.
Did I looking out the window every fifteen minutes hoping they were gone?
Absolutely.
Did I do this for two hours and go move my car as soon as they pulled out.
For sure.
Am I now concerned that, with the start of pool season and the loss of two pool-adjacent parking spaces now reserved for “manager parking” that I’m going to work my 7:30 to 5:30 and come home to find I can’t park in front of my own door?
Damn right.
Monday was the start of our Summer Hours and while I joked that it would be ironic if the nesting geese that’d taken over our parking lot finally had their goslings after the largest event of the year was over, the geese did not share my sense of cosmic circality. There’s a red squiggle telling me that isn’t really a word, but I say it should be, so there.
Monday night I made cheesy chicken and rice with Brussels sprouts:
On Tuesday, the goslings hatched. They were not there when I arrived in the morning but I saw Momma Goose moving her eggs around. By lunch there were five baby goslings!
Wednesday’s D&D session was also postponed; but the DM and I got on the voice channel anyway and spent a couple hours talking and doing long-distance parallel play.
Thursday was the last work day of the week. Four ten-hour days can be long, but honestly having Fridays off can make it worth it – especially with weekends like this where we’ll have Monday off, too, as a federal holiday. At least for now, since the President has said there’s too many holidays . . .
I call my congressmen every morning and every day I am discouraged that they support policies that will actively harm their constituents and have the gall to say they’re really supporting us. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop, though.
But anyway, I came home Thursday to find a note that more lot work would be done the next day (Friday) and our vehicles had to be moved by 8:00. So much for a leisurely start to the long weekend, but I made up for it with a classic roast beef and cheddar combo with curly fries and a Coke from Arby’s – after a few swigs of Coke, some rum and whipped cream vodka may have found it’s way into the cup.
Okay, all right, I admit it: I helped it find its way there. It was delicious and hit the spot.
Friday I got up and went to move the cars and discovered there is a Cybertruck in our complex, and not just any Cybertruck, no: this is one of the ugliest, most pretentious Cybertrucks I have ever seen. The only one that could top it is the one I saw with a Trump-themed wrap and Trump-themed vanity plate. But this one is still bad enough that one of my friends looked at a picture and said:
That looks like someone bought the ugliest car ever made and then “customized” it by patronizing an Etsy seller that specializes in taking designs made to appeal to incels and printing them on contact paper that’s been cut into the dimensions of cybertruck panels.
It is important to note that all I did in this photo was remove the background to avoid identifying landmarks. Everything else is exactly as I photographed it. This one also has a vanity plate letting the viewer know they are looking at a Cybertruck.
Here’s a tip: don’t drive cars made by a company who has a supporter of far-right authoritarianism as its CEO and public face. Just a thought.
And now, sadly, if has been parked in a space directly in a line of sight from my kitchen window since Friday.
I hate it.
But Friday was good. I worked out a plan to go grocery shopping, came back and carried my cool items into the house, then went around to several antique/thrift/consignment shops. I found the first three novels in the Game of Thrones series, and I saw this creepy framed photograph? painting? which I did not buy.
Is it haunted?
Probably.
While driving about I passed a hotel under renovation and saw a combination dumpster and port-a-john, which has now given new meaning to both “dumpster” and “waste removal”
That joke is hilarious in my head; I just can’t make it work in print.
Friday night Krystal and I went to Applebees. I had steak and she had shrimp. I almost spent $7 for twelve credits to then spend 2 credits just to hear the Applebees jukebox play “Helena” by My Chemical Romance, but this town isn’t worth the seven dollars.
The trivia wasn’t much, either. I usually do pretty well at pub trivia, but it’s kinda hard when they insist that wrong answers are correct. For example, one question asked “what painter is known for “The Fall of Man” and there were even options!
- Donatello
- Raphael
- Michelangelo
- Dürer
Now, if there’s one thing I know it’s Renaissance art and here’s the thing: both Raphael and Michelangelo have works known as “The Fall of Man” and even Dürer does, too – but he was an engraver. As Krystal and I were discussing this, they revealed the “right” answer was Dürer, which on the face of it was ludicrous. Engraving is not painting.
The audacity
It got worse several minutes later when they asked a question about Roman gods but gave an answer in the Greek pantheon.
It was some digital thing broadcast on screens; if it had been in person I would’ve been even more argumentative. Maybe it’s for the best; I’ve been thrown out of more than one pub trivia for correcting the quizmasters.
Saturday I alternated between cleaning and reading and for supper I made pizza: homemade crust and white sauce with sautéed onion, green peppers, and mushrooms and bacon. For dessert I had a small individual serving of chocolate ice cream.
Today is March 25th, a date Discworld fans will recognize as the day of the ill-fated Glorious Revolution. Today we remember the defenders of Treacle Mine Road and those who fell in pursuit of Truth, Justice, Freedom, Reasonably Priced Love, and a Hard-Boiled Egg:
- John Keel
- Cecil Clapman
- Horace Nancyball
- Billy Wiglet
- Dai Dickins
- Ned Coates
- Reg Shoe (even if only temporarily)
No monuments memorialize their sacrifice; they rest under crumbling grave markers in Small Gods’ Cemetery.
We remember them today, and wish them peace.
It is fitting (and not on accident) that Olivia Waite has published “The Essential Terry Pratchett” in the New York Times Book Review (digitally today and in print on June 1).
You can read a non-paywalled version here.
From Waite:
Discworld is not about how to be good, but about how to do good, and why even the smallest acts of kindness matter. Empathy — like humor or creativity or hope — is a muscle. You don’t train for a marathon by running around the world: You start with small distances and work your way up.
All the little angels, rise up, rise up
All the little angels, rise up high
Running In My Head 