I dream a lot. I'm generally pretty good at remembering my dreams. I dream in color. I'm also usually aware of the fact that I am dreaming when I'm dreaming.
Well, the other night, I had a dream that I was standing in the living room talking to my roommate and he was holding a plate on which there was a green, clear ball. In the nature of dream things, it was a grape, a marble, and an odd egg. But it was rolling around on the plate and it rolled off the edge and started to fall to the floor.
In my dream, I lunged to catch the grape/marble/egg so that it wouldn't touch the floor and get dirty or break. (Forgetting, of course, that I'm perfectly capable of stopping or rewinding time in my dreams.) Well, in real life, I sat up in bed and lunged also with my hand extended to catch the falling object.
It was just funny to me that there was no perceived transition for me between my sleeping and waking state. I lunged in my dream just as I lunged in real life and suddenly I was awake with my hand extended out over the side of the bed as if to catch something.
It would have been even more freaky if I had actually caught something in real life.
My face is sore from blowing my nose so much.
My back is sore from coughing so much.
My throat is sore from coughing to much.
My head hurts.
I have a fever.
I'm sweaty.
I'm cold.
I'm tired.
I'm grumpy.
I'm not hungry.
Apparently, Nyquil and Robitussin are effective treatments for the symptoms of TB. I will probably be dead soon enough, but at least it won't be because I've coughed up pieces of my spleen.
Today was my first day going from Astoria to work in the morning by way of the N/W trains. These trains are notoriously crowded in the morning and I found that that reputation is well-earned.
I get on the train at the Broadway stop, which is the fourth stop from the last stop on the line, Ditmars. According to rumors from my friend who lives over there and gets on the train at the Ditmars stop, the train fills up there. Then, it goes to the Astoria stop where more people pack in. Then it goes to the next stop, I forget what it is, where more people pack in. Then it gets to the Broadway stop, where I pack in.
There are three, I think, stops after that before the train gets to Manhattan and at each stop, more people try to pack in. At some point, people seem to start trying to get a running start in order to jam into the train.
I am happy to announce that I am not yet with child, but I do expect to conceive before too many of these train rides. I do not expect to know the father.
At the Lexington stop, 75% of the people get off the train, though, without so much as a 'thank you' or a 'I'll call you.' This is because clearly all that before was just meaningless talk to get into my pants and break my heart and because the Lexington station is a place where you can change to lots of other trains.
I don't know what the solution is to this. I thought about just urinating on everyone around me to see if they move away, but I think it might be a better idea if MTA would just send more trains out to us in Queens. Of course, I think if they did that then it might lead people in the outer boroughs to the erroneous conclusion that they matter at all. That's just crazy talk right there.
This evening on my way back to Queens from Manhattan, I went to the Times Square Station to catch the N, W, or R and I settled into the station for my 20 minute wait for the train. I was not there but perhaps five seconds when a gentleman strolled behind me and stood on the platform to my left.
I stole a few glances at him and recognized that I did not find him physically attractive, but deduced that he was probably also checking me out. I made a point to not let him see me looking at him. (Among us gays, allowing someone to see you checking them out is the first step in initiating a flirtation.)
I read my book while I waited.
When the train came, he got on my car and walked around as if to look for a seat, but returned to the front of the car and sat right next to me for the entire ride.
He didn't say anything, but he shifted nervously a little. Since we were in the little two-seater spot at the front, his every move took place against my hip. I continued to read my book.
I noticed him looking over my book and whatnot. When I got off, I noticed him watching me walk away from the train.
But not once did he even attempt to strike up a conversation on our 15 minute train ride together.
Fortunately, he didn't get off at my stop. That would have been too weird.
A couple of weekends ago, The Cuban (Did I mention him before? I was dating a guy I refer to as The Cuban.) dropped me an email and said he wanted to hang out. Quite against my better judgment, I told him that I would give a go at being his friend.
I think that if you were serious about a relationship, it is next to impossible, if not impossible, to make a successful friendship out of it. Some people do it and do it often. I have no idea how because it makes no sense to me and I've never ever been able to make it work.
Well, The Cuban and I (so called because he is actually Cuban. Well, he's American, but first generation from some Cubans.) went to dinner and we had a fun time.
So, he invited me out to drinks with him and his best friend.
When we dated, The Cuban and I had a great time. We laughed a lot. We did fun things. We got along great. And I met his friends and they all loved me, especially his best friend. So, going out for drinks with them was not a weird request.
So, I went.
Weeeellllll, one thing led to another and we wound up talking about getting back together.
Why did we break up in the first place? Because he's a Christian. I always check before going out with someone or on the first date to make sure they don't believe in any hoobie-joobie mumbo jumbo garbage. I do not have time for it in my life.
Well, The Cuban led me to believe, perhaps unintentionally, that he was agnostic. I will grudgingly accept an agnostic if all other factors are in place. But he's not agnostic. The man is Catholic. He just doesn't go to Church.
*SIGH*
I didn't really figure this out until after we dated for about a month and a half.
I know, you're thinking, "How do you miss a crucifix around someone's neck for SIX weeks?"
I didn't miss it. He never took it off! But when I asked him if he believed in God, he responded saying that he isn't religious. When I asked him why he wears a replica of a corpse affixed to an ancient execution device, he told me it was a family thing. I don't talk about religion very much and I also tend to be rather trusting of people to be forthright with things, so I didn't probe very much.
But it bugged me and I did wind up asking more questions and he admitted that he is Christian.
I dated him for a little while longer after that, but decided I couldn't take it.
He's a nice guy. We get along great, but there's more to a relationship than laughs and physical attraction.
I started worrying about our kids. What will they think when one daddy tells them not to believe in made-up magic crap and the other one is hanging corpses around their necks and flinging water in their faces?
An it's merely my own restraint and a sense of common courtesy that keeps me from openly deriding people's religions every time I encounter it. I work with a lot of Jews and Catholics, too, so I'm VERY restrained.
As I told another friend of mine, when times get hard, I don't want a man who will fall to his knees and pray, I want a man who will stand up for himself and kick some ass.
And forget the hard times. What about the good times? How can I possibly talk to a Christian about some esoteric point of science or economics or ethics or epistemology when I can't even trust his intellectual methodology? It makes no sense! Physicists don't call up L. Ron Hubbard (Yes, I know he's dead.) to see what he thinks of their experiment results.
So, that's why I won't date Christians and why I broke up with The Cuban.
Well, when I saw him again, I remembered all the things I enjoyed about him, but the inner conflict came back. How can I date someone with a fundamentally different view of reality? What is the best possible outcome for a relationship like that?
Well, I concluded that I can't. So, last night, via IM we got into it again and this time it's over for good, I think.
If you're at all interested, an excerpt from our chat appears in the extended entry.
The Cuban: you should meet mommy dearest The Cuban: she's very uncoventional
Flibby: heh heh heh... I can imagine.
The Cuban: hahhahaha... she asked me over breakfast the other day... "there is no chance of you and [his boyfriend before me] getting back together now.. is there" The Cuban: i said... of course not The Cuban: she said good... thank god
Flibby: Ha! Flibby: I don't know anything about Mr. [boyfriend before me], but I can't imagine how she'd be happy with you dating a heathen like me!
The Cuban: oh she wont care about that The Cuban: she's all about me being happy
Flibby: grrr...
The Cuban: hahhahahhaha The Cuban: what?
Flibby: *sigh* Flibby: I don't want to get into it right now.
The Cuban: okay... you dont have to The Cuban: i dont think youre a heathen
Flibby: I'm perfectly godless.
The Cuban: so The Cuban: youre Flibby The Cuban: youre belief system makes part of who you are The Cuban: and i like who you are The Cuban: everything is not black and white
Flibby: Yes, it is. Flibby: Everything is exactly what it is and nothing else.
The Cuban: i can see why you would say that The Cuban: but what you dont take into account is The Cuban: human emotion
Flibby: Those are what they are, too. Flibby: And nothing else.
The Cuban: so basically... would you not date me just because i was christian?
Flibby: If I had known you were Christian before, no, I wouldn't have dated you. Flibby: It's not because I don't think Christians can't be nice, sweet, charming, fun people. Flibby: It's because the thought processes involved with accepting faith as sufficient for belief are inherently risky and untrustworthy. Flibby: It's a recipe for disaster.
The Cuban: i disagree
Flibby: Regardless, that's why I avoid dating Christians.
The Cuban: i am who i am... if i were aethiest i would still be the same person
Flibby: You would be called [The Cuban], but in order for you to be atheist, you would have to have a different methodology for approaching life.
The Cuban: i dont think so The Cuban: i think youre wrong there... perhaps with other yes but with me no The Cuban: ive never been a religious person
Flibby: In order for that to be true, you would be telling me that you're not just "not religious" but that you're a complete hipocrite about your faith. Flibby: That it's totally meaningless. Flibby: Which begs the question of why you claim it at all.
The Cuban: religious in the sense of the question of the church The Cuban: but The Cuban: really if this all comes down to the fact that i believe in a higher power whether or not it affect my day to day life then yes i do, its not something that i can explain The Cuban: and i think if i were to make you happy then it wouldnt matter
Flibby: The problem is that in order to make me completely happy, it matters. Flibby: I need to be able to experience the widest possible range of human experience in love. Flibby: To have a conflict on such a fundamental level excludes part of that experience. Flibby: I'm not talking about a disagreement about favorite television shows or a grocery store. I'm talking about on the way you and I view existence and our places in it. Flibby: Like you saying things aren't black and white. Flibby: I say they are. Flibby: Regardless of who is right on that question, that's a pretty fundamental conflict. Flibby: And to project a relationship into the future that has that level of disagreement requires acknowledging a significant risk of failure.
The Cuban: why not risk the failure The Cuban: i would risk it
Flibby: Nearly everything involves a risk of failure. Flibby: The probability of risk in this case is excessive, though.
The Cuban: isnt it worth it?
Flibby: No. Flibby: The best result possible is a less than completely satisfying relationship. Flibby: The worst result is a serious heart break. Flibby: The math just doesn't make sense. Flibby: It was very difficult for me to break it off with you, but it's these reasons that I just couldn't ignore. Flibby: It's difficult, though, because I do enjoy you so much.
The Cuban: all i know is that i want to be with you... if we are talking about heartache.. well it hurts not having you around now so what is the difference later.. id rather try and fail then not try at all
Flibby: Because it would hurt more later. It would be even more difficult later. Flibby: I mean, look at your past relaitonships... Flibby: They started out with all hope, love, and joy Flibby: And that was excellent.
The Cuban: i look at this one
Flibby: But the ending...
The Cuban: and what i see
The Cuban: is that months later
Flibby: The endings are so hard.
The Cuban: i still think of you The Cuban: i still want to be with you The Cuban: and if its so hard to end it then why end it... there must be a middle ground
Flibby: A middle ground? Flibby: Between breaking up and being together? Flibby: Either people are together or they aren't. Flibby: You can't stay in the "dating" phase indefinitely. Flibby: And I'm not really good at fuck buddies.
The Cuban: no not htere The Cuban: i dont want a fuck buddy
Flibby: Well, there's friends.
The Cuban: i mean that there are exceptions we make for people we love
Flibby: And downgrading relationships is very, very hard.
The Cuban: i cant be your friend The Cuban: because i just want to hold your hand
Flibby: I know the feeling.
The Cuban: and i want to kiss you
Flibby: It would be easier to be broken up if we had broken up about something a little less abstract.
The Cuban: i want to give it a shot The Cuban: i mean jesus... i dont listen to patsy cline cause i think of you.. still The Cuban: ive gone on too many dates and i dont want to be with them The Cuban: so why not just try
Flibby: Because it will fail. It will end. Flibby: It will only be more frustrating.
The Cuban: sweetheart
Flibby: It will get more an more difficult.
The Cuban: its frustrating now The Cuban: and do you really think it will be more difficult
Flibby: Yes.
The Cuban: honestly
Flibby: Because I ended it once. Flibby: It will be more difficult a second time. Flibby: I've been down this road before. Flibby: For me to date someone I know believes in God is a challenge to my personal integrity. Flibby: I feel like a hypocrit. Flibby: I feel like a liar.
The Cuban: you know what i think The Cuban: i think you feel the same The Cuban: about me The Cuban: as i do for you The Cuban: so fuck it The Cuban: why not be happy The Cuban: and frolic in the snow in central park The Cuban: in the end of the day The Cuban: i would have rather had that then nothing The Cuban: dont you think that after all this time The Cuban: there is still something there The Cuban: how many guys can we both say that of
Flibby: Again, I didn't break up with you because I don't like you. Flibby: Or because I don't enjoy your company. Flibby: Or because I don't want to kiss you and hold you close.
The Cuban: i know this The Cuban: so fuck it... lets just go with it and see what happens
Flibby: We did that once. Flibby: I couldn't take it.
The Cuban: not really The Cuban: sweetheart The Cuban: i cant pretend to know how you feel The Cuban: about that The Cuban: but i just want to hold you The Cuban: the funny thing is The Cuban: that after friday night The Cuban: i was like ... fine The Cuban: at least i wasnt the only one
Flibby: Well, sweetie, I TOLD you that.
The Cuban: yes The Cuban: and that meant a lot to me The Cuban: more than youll ever know The Cuban: the fact that 5 months later we are still having this discussion means something The Cuban: you know what i think
Flibby: It means exactly what I said it means.
The Cuban: yes dear i know The Cuban: but you know what i think The Cuban: i think The Cuban: you should come over tomorrow and watch movies with me The Cuban: and just go with it
Flibby: :) Flibby: I appreciate it. Flibby: I don't think that's a good idea, though.
The Cuban: so then thats a no The Cuban: ive never fought for anyone before The Cuban: and ive never put myself out there like this before The Cuban: and you know what The Cuban: i risked it
Flibby: Yep.
The Cuban: so why dont you?
Flibby: I told you why. Flibby: The best case scenario isn't all that great. And the worst case scenario just plain sucks. Flibby: The risk is not warranted.
The Cuban: see thats where we disagree
Flibby: Like buying lotto tickets only with the odds stacked against winning.
The Cuban: but there is hope The Cuban: and even if there was only a 10 percent chance this will work long term The Cuban: i think its worth it The Cuban: as far as pain The Cuban: well The Cuban: sweetie
Flibby: There isn't a 10% chance.
The Cuban: so why are you talking to me
Flibby: I told you why.
The Cuban: yes The Cuban: both at odds
Flibby: Yes, I do have a conflict about it.
The Cuban: come tomorrow
Flibby: No, thank you.
The Cuban: then what is the point of me telling you when im going to miami
Flibby: Because up until this conversation I was really would have given it serious thought.
The Cuban: i see
Flibby: In order for me to consider all of this, I can't think about it. Flibby: I can't give too much thought to the principles involved or the future out comes. Flibby: In essence, I have to deceive myself and evade what I know to be true. Flibby: If there's anything I think is a sin, that's it. Flibby: But that's what I've been doing.
The Cuban: you can stop now
Flibby: Which is why I didn't want to get into this discussion in the first place. Flibby: but now that I've had to lay it all out there, what can I do? Flibby: I've said it out loud. Flibby: The cat's out of the bag and every one knows there's an elephant in the room.
The Cuban: well Flibby The Cuban: you have the dubious distincition of breaking my heart not once but twice
Flibby: Dubious, indeed. Flibby: You're the first Christian I've dated seriously since I gave up the stuff over half a decade ago.
The Cuban: yes well The Cuban: im just [The Cuban]
Flibby: That says a lot. Flibby: I need to get to bed. Flibby: g'nite
Ok. Cat food isn't great. I don't recommend eating it unless you have a good incentive like $100 or starvation.
The gravy was the worst. It was very salty.
The food itself was had the shape and texture of tofu that is made to be the shape and texture of meat. The flavor was similar to a mix of tuna and chicken.
I only gagged once and very slightly when I caught a whiff of it, but I held it in and finished the rest off with out any problems.
Apparently, there is widespread interest in my office to see me eat a can (5.5 oz) of wet cat food. The organizer of this event has received $100 in pledges to see the event already, so it looks like this is a go.
I've asked to do it before lunch so that I still have an appetite for my chicken pot pie afterward.
Although, this is chicken AND tuna... with Gravy! So, I might not need my pot pie after.
They're called "Schmackos" and they're made with real bacon. They do not taste like bacon, though. They're dry, salty, and have a very light, smokey flavor.
Update: Now, they're offering me $100 to eat a can of cat food. I told them to bring it in and I would think about it.
I had a fever. My throat was swollen and painful. The worst part was the headache I had, though.
Fortunately, late in the afternoon, it seemed that my fever broke and my appetite returned and I ate a little bit.
This morning, I'm up and around again. I still have chills and sweats a little bit, but my headache is gone and my throat isn't as swollen as yesterday. I'm even at the office although my coworkers may not regard that as a good thing.
Sadly, I don't have time for this sickness. I HAVE to go back to my new apartment and finish painting tonight. Tomorrow night I HAVE to pack my current apartment up because the movers will be there Thursday morning.
I woke up this morning and my throat was killing me. My head also hurts and I'm a little achy. I hope I'm not getting sick, but there's no reason I should have a hangover or any other soreness.
Meanwhile, I still have to paint my apartment.
Yesterday, I spent most of the day riding out to Long Island to Ikea and when I got to my apartment, some friends of my roommate's were crashed in my room and the power was out, so I didn't get any painting done yesterday.
Today, I made it out there and I started priming the walls, but I had to prime EVERYTHING. I got through about 95% of it but the trim is very slow work.
So, on top of not feeling up to snuff, I have to get up in the morning to work out with my trainer, go to work, and then head back out to Astoria to do some more painting.
The move is on Thursday, so I don't have a lot of time to screw around.
*yawn*
I should eat something, but I'm not hungry at all. I think I'm just going to go to bed.
Do you suppose that Wile E. Coyote, Super-Genius, can only date other super-geniuses because unless they're a super-genius he can't relate to them very well?
Once again I was promised snow and once again I was given "Wintry Mix" instead.
Yes, there is snow on the ground here in Hell's Kitchen, but very little. The rest is this mass of messy little pellets of ice. If you go outside, you will be assaulted by these tiny little chips of ice that slide defy physics and find their way down the front of your shirt.
Amusing as that is, it is not snow.
Oh! And the local news has given into the temptation and given this storm a name. It's Nor'Easter 2007!! *Scary music* I haven't seen any special computer graphics or anything, but I'm sure they thought about it.
So disappointing.
Update: I just saw a computer graphic of Nor'Easter 2007. It's official: Even New Yorkers are punks when it comes to cold weather. Not as much as Georgia, but still punks.
I just picked up a pair of pants off the floor of my room. They're the pants I wear most often. The belt I wear most often was already threaded through the loops. They're the pants I thought I was wearing. And then I took off the pants I was wearing.
I thought I had broken the time-space continuum or something.
Well, we sanded the floor and last night my roommate stained the floor in my room. It's a lot redder and darker than we wanted, so we're changing to a different color stain in the living room. Meanwhile, I have to live with the redder, darker stain. It won't be bad at all, but I hate that it's different from the room right through the doorway.
Oh well. I'm not resanding the floor, so that's it. On the bright side, the more that I think about it, the more I think it will go with the color scheme I've picked out.
I'm getting excited about moving out to Astoria, actually. No, it's not Manhattan, but there is a lot going on out there.
I'm just dreading the move.
This week: schedule the movers. Prime the walls.
I should have my room painted and ready for moving in the furniture by the end of the week or the end of next weekend.
I've been breaking my own rule recently. I've been talking to ex-boyfriends.
There was this guy I dated for almost a year back in Atlanta and he and I still talk pretty regularly, although he pissed me off a few months ago so I haven't been super pleased to hear from him in general.
Well, I was dating this guy here in NYC that I call The Cuban. We dated for a couple of three months or so. Well, now all of a sudden we've started talking again. We even went to a movie together in a non-date capacity.
Ok, but that's not what I wanted to tell you about in spite of the title of this post.
The Cuban's best friend sent me some text messages this evening. He's a straight man and he invited me out for beers with them. Is that weird?
I understand that I probably have less interest in other people than most but it strikes me as odd that there's this guy that I've hung out with only a handful of times who was so fond of the experience that immediately upon hearing that The Cuban is talking to me again he wants us to all go out for drinks.
So, anyway, next Friday I'm going to not only hang out with an ex, but also his best friend. Just weird.
Some people make their own stress. I loathe these people.
I think it's because when times get crazy, I tend to swallow my anxiety and detach from the urgency. I focus on questions like, "What's the worst possible outcome?" or "What are the next immediate steps to completion?"
My current job is that of a sort of technical project manager. This means that on most all of my projects I work with someone else who is a client manager. They manage client communications and the non-technical aspects of the project.
Well, I work with one such client manager who is VERY high-strung. Imagine the combination of the two of us in a high-stress situation. Conversations frequently go like this:
Flibby: An unfortunate outcome for our project is nearly certain. I am working on it, though, and I have a plan that may allow us to avoid it. It's a long shot, so I want you to be prepared for the eventuality that this may not be done until Monday instead of Friday.
Stressball: AAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!!! THIS PROJECT MUST STAY ON TRACK! IF IT GOES WRONG WE WILL BE FIRED AND THEY WILL BURN DOWN THE BUILDING BEHIND US AND THEY WILL SLAUGHTER 666 INNOCENT BABIES AND WASH US IN THEIR BLOOD!! WE CANNOT DELAY THIS PROJECT BY EVEN A SINGLE DAY.
Flibby: Um. Well, there's a chance it won't be delayed and I am going to do everything I can to avoid that. I will know by this afternoon if --
Flibby: Ok. Well, before you freak out, let me go back to my desk and find out if this will work.
Stressball: AAAAAAIIIII--
Flibby: Stop. I am going to work on this. Do not do or say anything else until you hear from me. I'm going to my desk now.
That's almost an exact transcript of a project we had yesterday morning. Yesterday afternoon, I called a meeting in which I explained that it looks like the situation has changed and our project will be on time, but it will be the last minute. If it doesn't work, then I also explained that I have a back-up plan.
In spite of that, the stressball wrote an email to me late last night and copied my boss and his boss asking for an update and talking about how the client was agitated about the project.
That pissed me off in a big way.
I wrote an email back to her and the rest of the world expressing my confusion since I provided such an update yesterday afternoon. I also provided some advice about how to manage client communications in such a way to avoid "agitation" and I closed with high praise of the other teams I've been working with who've supported us in meeting the client's expectations. A shared sense of urgency about this project is clearly not lacking.
So, my day today will be spent mostly keeping a lid on that snotty little pressure-cooker of an project manager that I have to work with on this. Woo.
My new apartment is a bit run down. It's in an older building that hasn't been renovated nor well-maintained. This is why it's so cheap.
Well, I have a whole month to move in, so I'm taking advantage of the time to do some minor renovations of my own. Namely, stripping paint, sanding walls, patching holes, scraping off superfluous plaster, adding plaster where it's needed, refinishing the hardwood floors, painting the walls new, attractive colors, and really just giving the place a thorough cleaning.
Fortunately, I have an enthusiastic roommate who is very happy to have a new partner in crime for his home decorating/improvement projects. Sure, it's a rental property, but we have to live there. The landlord not only doesn't mind but sometimes pitches in supplies for these projects as well.
Well, I've spent the entire week stripping paint and chipping plaster off of the beautiful trim that lines the room. I'll be honest: I wasn't as thorough as I could have been with infinite time, patience, and a complete set of dental picks, but I think I've made some very significant progress. In fact, tonight I finished stripping the paint.
Tomorrow, I'm moving on to sanding the walls and getting it all ready for paint. If things go well tomorrow night, I may even paint.
Whether or not to paint is a tough call because on Saturday we will be sanding the floors and obviously that will result in a lot of dust and I do not want my fresh paint ruined by saw dust. On the other hand, it will have more than 24 hours to dry in a very dry, very warm environment. I'm eager to see how the colors I chose look.
So, anyway, I'm up late. I'm tired. I'm excited to work some more on my room. I'm REALLY excited to have it all done.
I weighed myself at the gym this morning and I've gained another 5-ish pounds. I'm now 190 lbs of solid man. Well, mostly solid. Actually, kind of solid with a chewy center.
It's kind of weird because I'm slowly getting used to the idea that I live my life inside a slightly more massive body than I've generally thought.
When I got to college, I was almost my adult height and I weighed about 150 lbs. At my lightest, I weighed 145 lbs and I was 6'2" at the time. I was a skinny-mini. I imagine it was frightful. At my heaviest in college, I weighed in at a skinny 165 lbs and for a couple of years, I couldn't break the 170 mark.
So, in my mind, I weigh 165 lbs, which is considerably smaller than many males of my height. Hell, it's smaller than many adult males who are shorter than I am. So, I tend to think of myself as skinny. Scrawny, even.
It's just not true!
While I've had some success in gaining weight now, changing the image of my size in my mind is a slower process, but it's happening. I find I'm stronger than I thought. Some of my clothes are tighter than I remember. When I try on new clothes, I have to pick out larger sizes than I used to be able to get away with. It's the little things.
Assuming the weight I gain is muscle and not fat, I would like to put on another 5 to 10 lbs. Hell, Superman weighs 225 lbs and he's only 6'4".
I went out to my new apartment yesterday to see how it was without that dude in there. It's not bad. It's a hideous mess.
So, immediately, I tore up the carpet, which revealed a floor covered in a shiny, plastic, laminate in a parquet pattern. It's better than the carpet.
Then, I took a bucket of bleach water and wiped down the walls and windows and found that the guy who left had patched holes in the wall with something that dissolves on contact with bleach water. Still, at least it's clean.
The walls are baby blue.
There was one bit of the wall that was cracked and when I picked at the crack, big pieces of a thin coat of plaster and paint came off revealing a nice, smooth under coat of plaster. Hoping the entire wall that was that way, I scraped away a bit more. The rest of the wall was not that way.
We went to Home Depot to buy some paint stripper, paint, plaster patch, and other such things.
And I spent yesterday evening patching holes and stripping paint.
Lessons learned:
- Old carpet is nasty. Old carpet in old, dirty buildings is beyond nasty. I think I have cancer, TB, Bubonic Plague, giardia lamblia, cholera, and fleas now. But, getting rid of it is better than living with it knowing those things are living under there under an inche of pure dirt.
- Do not pick at cracked plaster. Simple remove the offending part and patch that because patching a whole wall is not as easy.
- Paint stripper burns. It burns your hands. It will burn your face. Keep a moist towel handy when applying paint stripper to places that are above your head.
Sadly, I didn't take any before pictures, so I can't share with you the changes I'm making.
Next weekend, we're going to tear up the laminate and refinish the wood floors. Yes, you heard me.
Well, today begins my four week plan for moving out to Astoria.
Weekend 1 - Clean and paint the room. Move a few books and things, whatever I can fit in my suitcases.
Weekend 2 - My good friend, Italiana de Tal, has offered to make a couple of trips with her car, so I'll move most of the other things that I don't want the movers to take.
Weekend 3 - The movers come and take the furniture and whatever else is remaining. At this point, I will be living full-time in Astoria.
Weekend 4 - Final cleaning and repair of my current apartment. Exit inspection.
I loathe moving, but I am hoping that this very long and deliberate process will help prevent this from being complete hell.
I am in a baaaad mood this morning. I think it's because I didn't sleep well, but I'm fighting this bad mood as well as I can because when I'm in a bad mood, I hate my job and want to kill people I work with.
