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Somewhere in Oregon

May 11th, 2001

On Your Life
I hit the wall around three this afternoon and left for home at four. Much more sensible than staying on, particularly since my manager had left at one. I was thinking, well, this is a sign of old age or something (I say that a lot lately, although my guess is most of this same stuff happened to me when I was twenty one, I just can't remember.), but I notice, now that I'm home, the head is clearer, the body ready for something. So I'm drinking a Guinness and thinking what a hell of a fellow I would be if I were to go out and take in a movie. Or fix dinner. Or something.

Nothing much coming up this weekend. The weather has been clear during this last week, the weather is forecast to be clear all next week and partly cloudy over the weekend. Sunny - partly cloudy, I've seen these forecasts before. Partly cloudy can give you heat stroke around here, so I'm not going to think about it.

I just called the mattress store and they said they would be delivering the new bed tomorrow No, it's not the same one. between nine and one. I say bed, but it's a box spring and mattress set with a metal frame on wheels. No headboard. I'm really curious how much better I will feel after a good night's sleep. I didn't buy the more expensive Sleep Aire mattress set (turn the dial and it does things with air), highly recommended by two of my fellow techies, mostly because I wouldn't drive east into the wilderness to find one. This one felt good, had one of those soft as a bunny touchy-feely names and cost a lot. It must be good, because it cost a lot, right? You learn these things as a kid: expensive is better, particularly if the store you bought it from has the psychic feel of a car dealership. I'm not cheap, I'm lazy (and, perhaps, stupid), and I'm not complaining about money if it gets me a night's sleep.

"What are you talking about? You complain about everything."

I didn't need to hear that.

"Then you shouldn't write this stuff down. Do you complain to your friends?"

I occasionally commiserate with my friends. We often share, um, similar circumstances.

"Go back and read your journal."

Not on your life.

Some flowers in Oregon and another photograph of a spectator at the San Francisco Cinco de Mayo parade. No, it's not the same one I ran yesterday. The quote is by Fran Lebowitz.