Of Moose And Men
The Best Laid Plans Of Both Often Go Astray

I love to wear watches. I am, by nature, a time/clock watcher. I have clocks all over the house (I can see five from where I’m sitting, including the ones on both computers), and I love having one of the little buggers on my wrist.

Except when it’s quiet and I can hear it ticking.

Was sitting here reading, nice and peaceful, when suddenly all I could hear was the watch ticking. I wiggled it around so it was facing away from me, no good. Moved my arm further away, still no good. Had to take it off and leave it in the other room. As much as I love my watch, the noise it makes when I’m trying to enjoy the quiet is just Too Much.

I’ve been avoiding my gym for a couple months now. I know, I know, bad fag. But with a pool at my disposal that was outside in the nice open air for the summer, why go swim inside? Thankfully my locker was still locked, my shoes were still inside, and all was right with the world.

There had been a bit of a scare a couple months ago that they were going to close the pool, but they had a huge outpouring of protest from the members, and instead had the members meet with them and suggest ways to make it all work for them. My montly dues will go up in November, but I’m okay with that, it’s not that large an increase. And I’ve now offset it by discarding my membership in the gym at work. When thinking over stuff, finances, etc., I realized that I had originally joined the gym at work so I’d have access to the showers for when I biked down from my old apartment. Now that I’m a mere 10 minutes away, there’s no need for it, so why pay? So I emptied out that locker today (more shoes – oy), cancelled it, reassured the poor guy at the desk that I had nothing against them, but that I didn’t need it now that I’d moved and that I needed my other gym with the pool more (as a triathlete). If I feel the need for a treadmill I can join the little fitness center here at the cult co-op for a third of what the work gym was costing me.

Speaking of the cult co-op, I had asked the general manager last week if I could get an extra door fob (for the towers) as well as an extra gate fob (for the outer gates) since the instructions for the gates allowed us to get an extra gate fob. She finally replied with the answer that I’d have to petition the board for one and they’d approve/disapprove it. Yeah, I don’t think so. I’ve asked, with a cc to the board president and the head of our security committee, whether we have an accounting of all the outstanding fobs and proof that they were all asked for and approved by the board (I’m certain the answer is no). Not going to let this one go – I want the extra fob because I want MG to be able to get in without having to either go down to get him or making him “sign in” at the front desk in the other building. Will be interesting to see how it plays out.

Thank you to all those who offered well wishes, they were very much appreciated. Y’all did better than my brother, who, though we had a long conversation this evening, seems to have forgotten his brother’s birthday. I’ll have Mom pick on him for that.

Mom-guilt rocks, when used as a pre-emptive strike. Or even as gentle revenge.

I do have things saved up to post about, like the fact that I get my Horney (Horny?) nature through my Mother’s side of the family, about the card I got from my parents, about dinner last night, and a lot of things, but for tonight, I’m simply saying Thank You, and getting myself to sleep.

I live about a block away from an army base here in DC. Since the weather is nice at night, I have the balcony door cracked, which means I can hear the bugle calls at night. At first I thought they were a recording, but tonight definitely proved that it’s no recording – the soldier playing taps this evening was having problems hitting and sustaining the high notes. It wasn’t painful, but it was definitely off a bit.

In other news, to those of you who got an incorrect notice through Friendster that today was my birthday, I apologize. It’s actually Tuesday, the 3rd, not the 1st. I’m not sure why F’ster thought it was the first, but I’ll blame user (moi) error. Sorry about that.

I sat down in the bathroom, for the usual reasons. The middle stall, beside me, was occupied. Soon he took some paper off the roll. And then some more. And then again. It didn’t sound like he was blowing his nose, but he kept taking off bits of paper, with only seconds in between each burst of unrolling. Then he flushed. And then started again with the paper. And flushed again. This happened (flushing and continued rolling) at least twice while I was in the stall, and once more when I was washing my hands.

This after noticing that the jerk who uses the paper hand towels to cover the seat instead of the perfect good (and flushable) seat cover things (he regularly clogs up one of the toilets in the bathroom, which doesn’t get fixed for days on end afterward) must’ve been in the stall I picked sometime before I was, because there were extra towels on the floor around the toilet.

I work with some really freaky men.

As the weather has cooled down I’ve been bitten with the baking bug. It happens most years at this time, but with a renewed focus on cooking at home, and the attendant reading of cookbooks, it’s come on bad this year. So I decided the next foray (after the first attempt to use the oven) would be muffins. Lemon poppyseed, using a recipe that I knew worked.

Blended the stuff up, almost forgot the egg replacer, but got it in before too late, popped it into the heated oven.

Unfortunately, like the last time, though I had carefully gotten the temperature up to the right place, it again zipped over the set temperature. Some slight burnt edges, and the flour was not quite the freshest (it’ll be replaced ASAP), but they did come out edible. Not perfect, but not a complete waste of time, either.

It’s almost like the oven refuses to cut off once it reaches the right temperature. Thankfully there’s a little light over the dial so I can tell when the heating element is on or off – that’s what clued me in that it was still going even though it had long since reached the right temp. Not sure what type of tweak it’ll take to fix that, will have to research the stove model and see if there’s any way to fix it without replacing the unit. Do need to get it fixed or figured out before I start making bread on the weekends again, though. Muffins are one thing, a week’s worth of bread is a whole other thing.

Okay, so today was most certainly the start of the last week of the fiscal year. Nothing quite like watching budget people wig out over other staffs’ mismanagement of their programs.

So I came home and did what I normally do when I’m stressed out. I downed a fifth of good bourbon. Since I’m not currently drinking until after the marathon, I cleaned.

Somehow putting things in order seems to calm me down, as I’m sure I’ve written about before (but I’m too lazy to look up any entries). The dining room table is clean, the desk is clean, my triathlon/exercise books are in order, and I’m about to tackle the cookbooks (those have been driving me to distraction of late as I try to find particular books and they’re in no order). The floor is clear enough (and was even before I started, honestly – this has been an effort to attack surfaces above the floor) that the roomba ran nicely around the whole place while I worked on particular areas, rescuing it as it ran into the bathroom or got stuck on the living room carpet. A nice, soothing scent’s been going in the burner, and I just closed up the house for the night, to shut out the noise.

It’s certainly a healthier reaction than the other usual one, and I do feel better for having cleaned stuff up, but it always strikes me as odd when I ‘come out of’ a cleaning fit and find specific spaces put into order and looking much, much better than they had at the begining of the evening. Neuroses are such fun.

I have my first sports injury of the season – on my right foot “the little piggy that had none” got a lovely matched set of blisters that made the last 2-3 miles a very unpleasant walk home. Hopefully they’ll callus over and negate the need for any serious ugliness, but it was an obnoxious ending to a long run. Yay for weird toes (this particular toe smooshes down against the one next to it, such that it has a little wedge-shaped callus already, in front of where the new blisters appeared today).

Did myself a favor this time, ran out about 5-5.5 miles on the Mount Vernon trail, turned around and headed back into East Potomac Park to do three loops around Hains Point, mostly because there’s a ready source of water in Hains Point (three public bathrooms). I ended up filling up my fuel belt water bottles twice, and drained them all each time (8oz x 6 x 3 = 144 oz water). Was only down by a pound from my weight in the morning, so that wasn’t too bad.

The knees have had their usual soreness post-run, but with the freedom of sandals I was able to make it to the grocery store and back without pain. We’ll see how the piggy does in shoes tomorrow.

Simple dinner of black beans (canned, zapped), saffron rice (from a bag, stove top cooked) and fried potatoes (fresh, again stove top cooked) with MG this evening, which was quite nice, satisfying, and blessedly simple. Going to try and make crock pot oatmeal this evening with the kitchen timer I bought a while back. Am keeping my fingers crossed that it works; warm breakfast with minimal effort in the morning sounds oh-so-nice, and the durned crock pot ought to get some play at some point.

Last night I noticed something that was, to me, odd. MG was over, and I just noticed that I have felt much calmer when he’s been staying over lately. I say odd because I’ve felt more like I’ve been the calming one in my past relationship (one ex referred to the calming influence of my presence as soaking up the “Moose soporific rays”, and not in a derogatory way). So it was startling to realize that the effect was working in the opposite direction. This weekend makes seven weeks since we met, and it’s just grown more comfortable in the interim.

In completely unrelated news™, I am seriously craving tater tots. Methinks a trip to the grocery store on the way home is in the cards. Mmm, tater tots…

As much as I love what I do (most days), I really hate the end of the federal fiscal year.

Everyone’s hair seems to be on fire, and unfortunately for them I am the Only Attorney That Can Save Them (or so they think – I try not to disabuse them of the notion, as it means more job security for me). Which makes me both popular and loathed.

Whee.

So, I’ve been stress eating instead of my slightly better normal routine (it’s not perfect, but it’s better than it has been this week). My stomach is starting to complain about the treatment. I don’t blame it, but it’s getting annoying. And building on the stress.

Oh, and to top off this lovely week of stuffing myself with every bad food I can lay my hands on, I was told today that the powers that be have offered me up as a sacrificial lamb to go to the Congress next week and help explain why what we did a month or so ago didn’t require notifying them or asking permission. Not like, bright lights and subpoenas, but in a less formal setting, a meeting with our appropriators and their staffs. The staffs I’ve so far managed to avoid meeting in person. I trust and hope this means a grade promotion is on the way this fall.