Apparently I'm allergic to figs
It's only 6:13 p.m. and today has been an ultraproductive Saturday, starting at
5:30 a.m., when Brandy (the dog) went apeshit, barking insanely at nothing (or was it?) waking me and Adam up from our respective slumbers in completely opposite sides of the house. Later, we both confessed to thinking, "Soon enough Jordan will wake up and deal with it." Little did we know, Jordan was not home. Nobody dealt with it. I was angry, and, as I learned later, Adam was scared.
6:15 a.m. Brandy (the dog) went apeshit again, barking at nothing(?). I got up and looked out the window, to see if her barking had scared off any potential robbers, but there was nothing. Unless they were already inside and not scared of a twenty pound dog. I went back to sleep.
9:12 a.m. Same thing. This time I didn't get up. But still, I am thinking "Soon enough Jordan will wake up and deal with it" as well as, "it would be funny (ha-ha) if I got up and found our TV missing." Adam is thinking the same thing.
9:47 a.m. Brandy (the dog) comes upstairs and sits down outside my door. This is rare. As in, I don't think it's ever happened before. I am nonplussed.
9:48 a.m. I get up. Shower, shave, teeth, read a bit, and suddenly it's
11:15 a.m. and Adam and I go to the bank, where I deposit some money as well as cash $3400 and $35 checks that I got for catsitting for a ninety-three year-old bald lady and working my day job, respectively. I immediately give roughly $500 to Adam, who is standing behind me, pretending to hold a gun to my back. Adam intermittently says "at gunpoint" and "don't make a scene" under his breath and Kenneth, our teller, just doesn't give a shit. Actually he laughs a little.
11:27 a.m. We get coffee and talk about how neither of us have had coffee all week and how much we are anticipating the otherworldly buzz. Adam tells me he thought there were ghosts in our house, and that's what Brandy (the dog) was barking at. He says he heard something running down the deck stairs.
11:45 a.m. Adam, Jordan, and I load up what ends up being 1,700 pounds of trash and other useless shit into a truck and the van as per the instructions of the City of Charlottesville Waste Management, which threatened our landlord with some erroneous fines, as well as jail time, if we didn't clean up the quaint "trash heap" in our backyard, like, pronto. They even came and took pictures and talked to Dana, who didn't tell anybody until today.
12:07 p.m. We drive trash to the dump, and dump trash at the dump. For those of you who've never been, THE DUMP IS FUN! They bury all our trash underground, so we can't see it from planes. And probably because it's safer underground. Keep it out of sight and in our eventual water supplies, says them.
12:34 p.m. Adam makes me eggs and toast and I love him for it.
12:45 p.m. Adam, Jordan, and I clean the house, top to bottom, side to side, making full use of both the SWIFFER QUICKER PICKER UPPER and a water hose dragged inside and expertly aimed away from running electrical devices. Again, this was at the instruction of the landlord (not the water hose thing, but the cleaning in general), who wants to start "showing the house" and needs it to look normal. We thought about taking down the Christmas tree, but in the end, it's still there. So is the extensive keyboard station and a lot of wine.
3:15 p.m. Jordan and I celebrate our cleanliness with fig, strawberry, vanilla ice cream, and some sort of liquor smoothies. Then we play foosball and my game is way off. He kicks my ass, very badly. Twice.
4:00 p.m. I shower again because I smell like the dump mixed with fig and some kind of household cleaner.
4:20 p.m. I read some of Birds Without Wings, by an author whose name escapes me at the moment (hint: he's French. Or something like it.)
5:00 p.m. I do laundry, blog on THE NICE JENKINS site, take a short nap, and floss my teeth (seriously). I also find out that one of Stanley's bands, Q-Black and the Whoppers, is not playing tonight, as I had been thinking and looking forward to. I am distraught.
5:58 p.m. I watch TV for three minutes.
6:01 p.m. I take some meat out of the freezer, so that it will be thawed in seven days. I try to decide what to eat.
6:11 p.m. I decide to blog, partly because Stanley said, last night, that I couldn't hang out with him until I blogged again, because he's done like five in a row. I did not point out, however, that all of his blogs are four lines long, and, in effect, just links to other interesting sites. I did not point this out. I did not.
5:30 a.m., when Brandy (the dog) went apeshit, barking insanely at nothing (or was it?) waking me and Adam up from our respective slumbers in completely opposite sides of the house. Later, we both confessed to thinking, "Soon enough Jordan will wake up and deal with it." Little did we know, Jordan was not home. Nobody dealt with it. I was angry, and, as I learned later, Adam was scared.
6:15 a.m. Brandy (the dog) went apeshit again, barking at nothing(?). I got up and looked out the window, to see if her barking had scared off any potential robbers, but there was nothing. Unless they were already inside and not scared of a twenty pound dog. I went back to sleep.
9:12 a.m. Same thing. This time I didn't get up. But still, I am thinking "Soon enough Jordan will wake up and deal with it" as well as, "it would be funny (ha-ha) if I got up and found our TV missing." Adam is thinking the same thing.
9:47 a.m. Brandy (the dog) comes upstairs and sits down outside my door. This is rare. As in, I don't think it's ever happened before. I am nonplussed.
9:48 a.m. I get up. Shower, shave, teeth, read a bit, and suddenly it's
11:15 a.m. and Adam and I go to the bank, where I deposit some money as well as cash $3400 and $35 checks that I got for catsitting for a ninety-three year-old bald lady and working my day job, respectively. I immediately give roughly $500 to Adam, who is standing behind me, pretending to hold a gun to my back. Adam intermittently says "at gunpoint" and "don't make a scene" under his breath and Kenneth, our teller, just doesn't give a shit. Actually he laughs a little.
11:27 a.m. We get coffee and talk about how neither of us have had coffee all week and how much we are anticipating the otherworldly buzz. Adam tells me he thought there were ghosts in our house, and that's what Brandy (the dog) was barking at. He says he heard something running down the deck stairs.
11:45 a.m. Adam, Jordan, and I load up what ends up being 1,700 pounds of trash and other useless shit into a truck and the van as per the instructions of the City of Charlottesville Waste Management, which threatened our landlord with some erroneous fines, as well as jail time, if we didn't clean up the quaint "trash heap" in our backyard, like, pronto. They even came and took pictures and talked to Dana, who didn't tell anybody until today.
12:07 p.m. We drive trash to the dump, and dump trash at the dump. For those of you who've never been, THE DUMP IS FUN! They bury all our trash underground, so we can't see it from planes. And probably because it's safer underground. Keep it out of sight and in our eventual water supplies, says them.
12:34 p.m. Adam makes me eggs and toast and I love him for it.
12:45 p.m. Adam, Jordan, and I clean the house, top to bottom, side to side, making full use of both the SWIFFER QUICKER PICKER UPPER and a water hose dragged inside and expertly aimed away from running electrical devices. Again, this was at the instruction of the landlord (not the water hose thing, but the cleaning in general), who wants to start "showing the house" and needs it to look normal. We thought about taking down the Christmas tree, but in the end, it's still there. So is the extensive keyboard station and a lot of wine.
3:15 p.m. Jordan and I celebrate our cleanliness with fig, strawberry, vanilla ice cream, and some sort of liquor smoothies. Then we play foosball and my game is way off. He kicks my ass, very badly. Twice.
4:00 p.m. I shower again because I smell like the dump mixed with fig and some kind of household cleaner.
4:20 p.m. I read some of Birds Without Wings, by an author whose name escapes me at the moment (hint: he's French. Or something like it.)
5:00 p.m. I do laundry, blog on THE NICE JENKINS site, take a short nap, and floss my teeth (seriously). I also find out that one of Stanley's bands, Q-Black and the Whoppers, is not playing tonight, as I had been thinking and looking forward to. I am distraught.
5:58 p.m. I watch TV for three minutes.
6:01 p.m. I take some meat out of the freezer, so that it will be thawed in seven days. I try to decide what to eat.
6:11 p.m. I decide to blog, partly because Stanley said, last night, that I couldn't hang out with him until I blogged again, because he's done like five in a row. I did not point out, however, that all of his blogs are four lines long, and, in effect, just links to other interesting sites. I did not point this out. I did not.
posted by Ryan at 18:10
1 Comments:
wait.
what about the part where you're allergic to figs???
did you die?
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