This morning I drove to work. When I got there, as is my custom, I found a parking space in which to place my car. Having found my spot, I moved to fill it, but I was temporarily thwarted, for my space had already been claimed. No it wasn’t some tiny Geo Metro parked at the front of the space and hidden behind some SUV roughly the size of Jupiter. It was, in fact, a flamingo (the non-pink variety). I now have the privilege of saying that I have been stopped in my tracks, and force to wait by a large bird whose knees bend the wrong way. How about you?
I can officially announce that I have moved right on up into the 1980′s. I would say (and I believe most people would agree with me) that I like technology. I like play with all kinds of various objects which in some way consume electricity. It might then come as a surprise to you that I got through my first quarter century without ever actually touching fax machine. I can tell you now that I have become both an expert and lost every bit of the desire that I never actually had to every use said fax machine technology. Fax machines are like email, except I have to print out the piece of paper, walk down the hall, scan the document, wait 5 minutes while it calls and sends just so it will print another piece of paper, which looks like the piece of paper I already had, but worse. Paperless society indeed. Hmmmf.
So today at work, I finally got an office. By office, I mean an area of floor space with 3 and half walls that are about 6 feet tall. Yes it is what many refer to as a cube despite failing every possible mathematicaly test for gaining that designation. Regardless it is mine, along with the computer, filing cabnet, and other miscellanous stuff which I can’t tell you about. I would show you a picture of my new daytime home, but I can’t get a camera anywhere near it. Never fear. I grabbed paint and worked up a quick artist rendering of my first day in my new office.
So last night, I cooked what can only be called an actual meal. By this I mean something that is not:
1. Fast Food
2. PB&J
3. Pizza
4. Soup
5. Anything that closely resembles any of the above.
It was, in fact, spaghetti. I know what some of you are say. You are saying “Big Deal. I have been making speghetti since I was two in portions big enough to feed a small to medium sized army battalion.” Good for you. I am somewhat new to the idea of cooking something good enough to save for leftovers. It should be also noted that since more than 12 hours have passed since my consumtion of this meal without any obvious ailments, it is probably safe to say that it wasn’t deadly. This is a good thing.
So I have been AWOL for awhile. But you already knew that, all 56 of you. Thas is, by the way, how many unique visiters came over the past week only to see absoluly nothing new. I am ashamed. So here is a flurry of new stuff.
For the first time since I was about 10, I wore a hole through the knee of my jeans. Do they still make those iron-on knee patches which were all the rag back in the 80′s? Would I use one even if they did? Wouldn’t that be scary?
I can’t help but think that someone out there has been kept up at night wondering what my backyard looks like. Wonder no more.
Yesterday, I set out to run several errands around town. I didn’t actually get much done. Why you ask? Because of two traffic events which totally shut down the city.
One : someone desided that it would be a good idea to cross lanes on I-95 and shut down the interstate for 4 hours
Two: A truck driver decided to unload a healthy portion used oil through one of the major intersection in Melbourne, creating what the newspaper called “a car-sized Slip-n-Slide” at the same time the interstate was shut down. Yahoo for traffic.
After only two short weeks, I not only have a job, but I also have a project to work on. No more surfing the web for 9 hours a day. Thank goodness. I would tell you what I am working on, but I can’t, cause then I would have to have you killed.
On a related note, to get into the building I have been at for the last two weeks, there are a series of card swipes, turn-stiles, elevators, and such. I have yet to walk through this array of security measures without humming the Get Smart theme song.
Well the inevitable is upon me. After 25 years of preparation mixed with health bits of delay I like to call “life experiences”, I have run out of excuses and finally reached the preverbial “when I grow up”. I thought I might take this time to look back at what I had once imagined I would be doing at this anticipated time. Thing is, I can’t really think of much. The only thing I can actually remember ever wanting to do as a child was to be an astronaut (but then who didn’t) which is somewhat ironic since I am currently up at 3:30 in the morning the night before my first day of work so that I can hear the sonic boom from the first shuttle re-entry in a long time, which could also be the last in a very long time (or ever). Hmm.
