The continuing story of a guy who works from home...
Maddad: Hey Skippy, it's time to clean up. You finished with this apple?
Skippy: Yep. But there's one thing...
Maddad: OK, look. I have to get ready for my 1:15 call... what do you need, a cookie?
Skippy: Actually I was going to tell you I needed to poop.
Skippy: You were so close.
Is it me, or are batteries getting worse? My landline phone's batteries will barely make it through this conference call. My old one would go weeks before I remembered to put it back on the hook. Maybe not weeks, but you get the idea. My new blackberry needs a charge pretty much every day, I used to charge my old one on Sundays. My work laptop battery died, it went from holding a four hour charge one day, to a fifteen minute one today. Over the span of a month.
Now I used to be gone five days a week and I could forget to bring a charger and not worry too much. These days, I'm only traveling two or three days but I have to carry an extra bag just for chargers, cables and extra parts for the tech stuff. How did that happen? Who is sucking the electricity out of all my stuff?
My iPod, bluetooth, wireless keyboard, wireless mouse, you name it, the batteries are burning out at an alarming rate.
It's a crisis. A crisis I TELL YOU! Really. I blame all the damn electric cars out there now sucking up all of the electricity out of the air THAT SHOULD BE GOING INTO MY G_D PHONE!!!!!
There's only so much of the magic fluid to go around, and I don't live in a state that can make it out of fish either. From what I understand we have to have several thousand monkeys rubbing balloons on their fur just so I can get on the intartubes. Several thousand! I happen to know that an electric car uses a lot more electrical juice than my laptop, and even if it was just a few more monkey's worth... Jesus. Can you imagine the stink? I mean, think about it. At any given time about a third of the monkeys are masturbating and at least a quarter are throwing shit at each other, so if it takes 10000 monkeys rubbing ballons on their heads to fill up the battery on a typical electric car for a day, you'd need to have 15800 monkeys availible at any given time for balloon rubbing duty. You have to feed the damn things whatever it is that monkeys eat, clean up after them and please tell me where you're supposed to buy 15,000 over tiny fez's?
Let's face facts, is it at all moral to enslave our fellow primates just so we can bus our fat asses to Taco Bell without having to stop for gas? I would say no. No it isn't. Not when they could be charging up my damn cellphone. If I wanted monkeys to help with transportation, I'd have them carry me around in a sedan chair.
Hear that great big sucking sound? Nope, it's not U2's new single, it's my fucking wallet. I have hit that point in the year when everything breaks. Usually it happens closer to Christmas, but this year it is happening NOW NOW NOW!
Money's one thing, I can always put off replacing some things and I can jerry rig others. What I'm really short of is TIME. And, of course, TIME is MONEY.
Where the hell am I going with this? I'll tell you.
While I was in communication lockdown and not updating this here web log, I was working on getting a new job. Actually, I was working on getting my old job back, and I got it. I'm very happy, same company, same people, cool stuff, great job. Same money. Oh well. I'll live.
The problem was that the one big reason I wanted out of the job that I had, which was a good job too, was travel. I was on the road for eleven straight weeks. Maddmom had her surgery, I had two weeks at home which turned into four days at home. I was gone. This was obviously not a good thing for maddmom, not a good thing for our kids and not a good thing for me.
I was spending two days at home per week. Sort of. I'd get home Friday night around 11pm, get up the next morning and have to unpack, do laundry, mow, and chores. Sunday was Mass, finish laundry and re-pack, then catch up on paperwork and plan travel etc. Maddmom, who was home all week, was doing everything else. She was wiped out. You can imagine. I wanted my old job back and I got it. But... for the first month I was finishing up the old job, starting the new job, had training to go to and a vacation scheduled.
So what happens? After vacation, another week-long trip when I got back, things seemed to settle into a kind of almost routine. But you can't turn a supertanker on a dime, and so I decided that wanted, no needed this blog thingy for my mental health, my mental health could jump, I had other things to do. Plus, no-one reads this anyway. Simple. Done.
I spent some time trying to teach my sons how to build a bike. I stripped my 15 year old mountain bike to the frame, re painted it, and replaced every component, so we could all go bike riding (we haven't, no time). The bike turned out great. But around the same time, the lawn mower broke and the upstairs bathrooms started leaking. So I, in my wisdom, decided that I could fix the boys bath. I'd pull off the leaking tile, replace the walls and re-tile.
I'd do the job an American won't do.
Now I know why Americans don't do them. They don't have time.
After I had demolished the boy's bath, I realized that I needed to completely re-plumb the shower, the old faucet was a mess and the showerhead was so low that it would barely reach the Prince's now MASSIVE, HIGH SCHOOL shoulders. But of course, there was no shutoff valves. I ended up adding the shutoff valves, replacing the faucet assembly, putting sound insulation in the walls, cleaning the old glue and caulk off of the tub with Scotch-Bright pads, then replacing the nasty, old, wet drywall I took out with the new, cool waterproof stuff. Then I mudded and taped and now I am tileling. It's been a month. Four weekends with no boys bath. They've all been using ours.
Which they broke.
ONE DAMN DAY after tearing apart their bathroom, the shower in the master bath started leaking through the dining room ceiling. ONE. DAMN. DAY.
Only, it didn't leak when my wife or I took showers, just when the Prince took his. ANyway, while trying to fix it, I made it worse for a week. Now I have to fix the dining room ceiling, which is pattern textured (thank you soooooo much oh nineteen-seventies home design gurus) instead of nice and flat. My guess is that we'll have that hole for a while.
I was going to be finished tilitng the boy's shower this weekend but this Friday is my 15th wedding anniversary and I'd like to spend some time with my wife. Since I'll be...wait for it...on the road this week.
I'll be spending some money on her, though, I got her a present. Which is nice. That means we'll have something to hock to pay for the braces for all of our snaggle-toothed offspring, the new toilet and associated hardware, my timing belt (I don't get a car allowance any more), the new AC we'll need this winter, the new ceiling, seven more boxes of tile, new floor and wallpaper for the boy's bath, the Prince's upcoming tonsillectomy, a trumpet, a trombone, a new couch, the new monitor I got (oops) and the steak dinner I want to feed the missus. But we'll never get that meal because I'll be fixing all the crap that didn't get fixed while I was on the road. So we'll need money to pay for someone else to do that, so I'll have to stay out on the road.
Doesn't matter. I stopped and started this post eleven times today, I don't even remember what I started out to say. I've got to get packed.