How I suspect most people spend their time

Those of us with blogs probably spend more time in the little lime-green segment than most…

Oh, Grow Up.

Two posts in one day, I know, unheard of. But I just couldn't not share this.

I used to be into woodworking, when I lived in Waterloo and had a lot of space. There is a store in Cambridge called A&M Wood Specialty. For some reason, they thought it would be a good idea to register the domain ForLoversOfWood.com. It used to be the banner on the website. They've since replaced that with pictures of hardwoods. I had a moment once where I was looking at mahogany and came across an item whose detailed description was "African Crotch Swirl". Doesn't anyone proofread these things? Maybe I'm just less mature than your average woodworker.

I'm in kind of a pissy mood this morning because our eaves trough is blocked and it rained pretty hard last night and the water poured in a heavy stream right down onto the air conditioner in our bedroom window. We were awakened at 4AM by what sounded like WW III occurring in our bedroom window.

So I was looking for an extension ladder on a tool rental price list today when I came across another doozy: "Concrete Vibrator 1.5'' with 10ft shaft". Which makes sense, when you think about it: I can see wanting to stand at least 10ft away from anyone who was willing to use a concrete vibrator.

Hidden Message

Sometimes, men try to grow facial hair when, really, they just shouldn't. Like when my brother wore mutton chops. No es bueno. I've heard these people told, near the beginning of their ill-advised foray into the world of bearded men, "you've got something on your chin. I have a cat that could lick that off for you."

. . .

I woke up this morning at 6 AM. This was because my hands were above the covers. When Carmen sees a hand sitting idly, she cannot help herself but try to weasel under it to get pet. So for several minutes, I succumbed to her advances and let her sit on my chest while I pet her, half-asleep. I tried to stop a few times but every time she would nose under my palm again, until finally I put my hands under the covers. I let her stay on my chest, since, well, what harm could that do?

Apparently she got bored because just as I started to drift back into sleep, I felt something on my chin and then realized that Carmen was trying to eat my beard.

She didn't draw blood so I gently shooed her off and went back to sleep, but not before wondering whether she was just captivated by the movement of my chin in my sleep or whether she was trying to tell me something.

Maybe it's time to start shaving.

The New Deal

So it turns out I was partly right about going to grad school. I figured I would have a lot more time for things like sleep because, said I, "my thesis won't be calling me at 4 in the morning." Only this last part has turned out to be true — my sleep now comes, typically, in contiguous chunks, however, they are not very long chunks. Turns out I grossly underestimated the workload and took on an extra course I shouldn't have.

Also, my sleep isn't always completely uninterrupted. I woke up at about 4 in the morning a few weeks ago to being punched in the back of the head.

"Ow! You hit me!" I cried.
"Well, you were trying to put a silverfish on me," L explained.
"I was asleep!" I defended.
"Well, don't be mean to me in my dreams and I won't wake you up," she offered.
"Fine. Deal," I said, and I went back to sleep.