not falling down

1. Do you own enough shit?
   

   YES

   NO

2. Of course you don’t. Get some more! This is easy, because of Capitalism.
3. GOTO 1
4. Uh oh, it’s time to move! You’d better pack all that up, drive it around, and carry it up stairs. But your fleshy man-body is weak! What will you do?
   • Hire professionals
   • Ask your friends for help, but pay them what you would pay professionals
   • Ask your friends for help, on Valentine’s Day, in eight-degree weather, and repay them with Mexican food that you didn’t even buy, your girlfriend did
5. Wow, you’re kind of a bastard! But at least all your shit is moved now.
6. Wait! You still have more shit to move! How did that happen? You’d better stay up until 3 am. You can move the rest tomorrow! I mean today!
7. GOTO 4

Thanks to Maria’s parents Mike and Susie, Scott, DC and Beth. We owe you guys a hell of a lot more than those enchiladas.

So this is the room into which we checked, late Monday night.

And this is the room we were in three hours later.

So my advice is, always complain about the air conditioning.

These images brought to you by my new wide-angle lens, which is the second-sexiest thing I own, second only to my new Bose Wave WHY DO I KEEP BUYING SHIT SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE ME STOP

Remember my list of potential destinations? The least likely of them has become the best choice, and in fact the one I’m making: on March 3rd I’m flying to London, to live with Holly, Kevan and Catriona until Roz arrives in August to take their spare room for fall term. I’ve worked out the tax-related bits and I have my boss’s approval to keep working for Indelible on Greenwich time. I have purchased plane tickets and an iPod. This trajectory does not reverse.

The whole thing fell into place with a suspicious ease, as if we had assembled a Lego castle merely by shaking the bucket, but I am not looking askance. Five and a half years ago I was writing here about how I had to turn down my semester abroad to keep my Comp Sci degree; now that degree is making it possible to go after all, with people I like, and to hang out with my mom and sister and Maria there. Real life seems to have a plot.

I’m going to London!

Me: (scrolling through Tivo) We have a couple of Novas…

Maria: What are they on? …No, I’m not interested in those.

Me: But this one has lemurs!

Maria: No. No. You know what they should make one about?

Me: What?

Maria: Unicorns.

As seen camwise, the dog has ceased to destroy my copies of Halo 2 (I bought the one with the aluminum case) and occupies most of her days now staring out the window. Eventually she will evolve wings, and yea, the people will learn fear of the Hawkpuppy of Broadway.

1. Your package has finally arrived. Open it. It is a refurbished MacBook!
2. Boot it up to see if it works. It does! Have Maria show you neat tricks in OS X.
3. Snip open the mylar packets of RAM and new hard drive that you bought to make this thing more than a toy. Crack the case and immediately fall prey to the bitch hell middle screw of death.
4. Break Maria’s screwdriver trying to get it out. Yes, the screwdriver. Don’t even scratch the screw.
5. Become very irritable and take it out on the dog. Buy more screwdrivers and, in a fit of bad decision-making, WD-40.
6. Screw will suddenly decide to pop out about six hours later. Replace hard drive and RAM. Upgrade mood.
7. Reinstall OS X. Install Boot Camp. Try to set up partition for Windows.
8. You have erased OS X! GOTO 7
9. Obtain Microsoft Windows™ XP Professional patented encrypto-mathic secure Protectivation Key™ by advanced method of asking a couple dudes.
10. Install Windows. Accompany Maria to hospital (she is working; note that in current state of health she should possibly be a resident). Find Wifi. Post.
11. Profit!

Years ago:

“Fish are the beef of the sea.”

–Yale

Tonight:

“Seals are basically dolphin puppies.”

–Maria

Yale is sick. Get better, Yale!

“I think some people are kind of Facebook sluts.”

Massive Flickr update, actually not that massive, it’s 85 pictures, but those are culled from like a thousand. Includes graduations, weddings, Mayan Gypsy parties, and what I know you’re really here for, which is pictures of the dog.

I discovered a few minutes ago that I have not only a big black splinter in the heel of my hand, but a hell of broken nail on that hand’s ring finger. My hand was in no such condition when I went to bed last night. What exactly am I doing in my sleep?

I know I haven’t written anything in here in like ten weeks; I have been saving up the biggest thing for the day when it actually happens. Meanwhile, Maria bought a red car, we ate at the Mayan Gypsy three times in a week, Ian touched down like a spinning stone, and Brenna will never trust us again.