mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- JP's 5x10 \"unit\" is just way too big. I keep getting the distinct feeling that the worst of winter is over and that spring is just around the corner. My first clue came several weeks ago, actually, when I saw a beetle crawling across my ceiling. At first I thought it may have just been a weird dust bunny, but it was moving along wide open. One doesn't usually find beetles running around on one's roof when there is still a lot of winter left to go. And I've noticed that the birds and bees are starting to do that particular thing that birds and bees do this time of year. If you get my drift, wink wink, nudge nudge. I couldn't be much happier, either. I mean about spring being on the way and not as much about the birds and bees gettin' their groove on. This has been one long winter. Last summer the specialist weather forecasters were predicting a long winter because bees were nesting high up in the trees, certain bugs were rooting deep within trees and into the ground, and bushes and trees were going through changes that only occur when a cold winter is on the way. A sign that it was, indeed, a cold winter: The Great Lakes have frozen over!. Where's this global warming thing we've all been told about? Frankly, I'm a little suspicious. But, yeah. I'm glad it is warming up. Ask me again how I feel about the warm weather when I am running miles and miles in it at boot camp in June. I'm sure I'll have a few choice words to say. When I was packing up my stuff, I had visions about the 5'x10' storage place I was intending to rent while I am off gallivanting through Canada, New York, and Chicago and while I play for a few weeks in Texas over the summer. I thought that I would have the unit stored to 110% full capacity. It would be bulging at the seams, and I would have to get a big football player to hold the door shut so I could put the lock on. Dirty, skid marked underwear would be hanging out of the door frame. But I took everything I have packed so far into the newly rented storage unit yesterday. Everything I own fits, nicely stacked, along the back wall. The rest of the space is what I like to call "empty." Granted I still have my bedroom to pack up and take over there as well as my kitchen. But that's it. And it won't take up another 40 square feet. I wonder if I could live in there. Rent's definitely a lot cheaper. I've lived in worse places. So, if you live in the Columbia area and need storage space, email me. I can most likely accommodate. Unless I downgrade, which I may do. I don't really want to pay for so much space that isn't being used. I went out drinking last night. Yes, again. Don't get yourself in a hissy. I'm not drinking much. I had on average one beer an hour for four hours. I also had a Memphis style BBQ sandwich. That's pulled pork smothered in BBQ sauce, topped with a pickle and � the kicker � cole slaw, all sandwiched between a toasted sesame seed bun. It is such a good and heavenly thing. I have more fun at the bar talking to a bunch of new and cool people who are bar regulars. It's like Cheers in there. You walk in and everyone screams your name. It just sucks that I met all of these people mere weeks before I leave town. I will be the first to admit that I haven't had much of a social life over the past few years. Now that I am getting one, I am leaving town. Isn't that always the case. When I get to my first Air Force base, I'll probably end up going where I have been shown one can find a whole slew of really neat people. The bar. Not just any bar, though. One where they don't play loud music and have Memphis style sandwiches. That's my kind of bar. Ok, that's about it. I'm about to go execute my last remaining Sea Monkey. It'll be a burial at sea. His (or her) last view of this cold, cruel world will be of me bent double over the porcelain coffin, eyes spinning, watching him slip slurpily away into oblivion. Goodbye, dear Sea Monkey. You have been� Umm� A Sea Monkey. Nothing overly spectacular about you. You swim. You eat. You reproduce. That's. About. It. May this be a lesson learned for all of us. If all of our lives end up being as unproductive as the Holy Sea Monkey's (he's being canonized), we may one day be flushed down the metaphorical toilet bowl. So go out in your daily lives and do more than eat, swim, and reproduce. And for some of you (especially of the Lesbian Ex Girlfriend ilk), don't reproduce at all. For the betterment of society. 12:34 p.m. - Wed., Mar. 12, 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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