Adventures in Loafing
For the first time in about a month, I took an honest-to-goodness day off. And while the to untrained eye it might have looked like I was watching too much television as every piece of dirty laundry in the house slowly made its way through the wash, it really was a day full of adventure:
--8:00 a.m.: The biggest struggle is getting clothes into the washer at all. As we left the house to take Anna to work, someone -- and I'm pretty sure it was someone who doesn't actually live here -- was changing her load of laundry. This is profoundly annoys me. Although maybe I shouldn't complain. Usually when strangers enter the McNeil Manor laundry room they pull a Hamilton Defecator.
--10 a.m.: I seem to have picked up the show Dawson's Creek when it airs during the day on TBS. It's a good clock by which to measure progress, two commericials is a washer load and three is a dryer. The show is remarkable drivel, yet I can't seem to stop watching. The sad part is that I know quality reruns of ER are on the TNT, exactly one channel below TBS, but I can't pull the trigger. It should be noted that I mute the Paula Cole intro song to hide my shame from the neighbors.
--10:20 a.m.: Watched Maggie Gyllenhaal's painful interview on The Daily Show repeat. I briefly considered dropping her from my team because, seriously, I want good quotes on in my locker room. Back to Dawson.
--1 p.m.: Heading out to move clothes I encounter our mitupple-mit-kinder neighbors as they returned from the doctor. Apparently the 2-month-old, who looks like he should be in kindergarten, needed his first shots. As we were talking, a ringing fart emanated from the kid's diaper region. This, it seems, was cause for celebration because both parents cheered.
--2 p.m.: Remember Claire Danes? I watched The Rainmaker, a movie in which she plays a battered wife who is saved by crusading lawyer Matt Damon. Part of her will always be Angela Chase to me, so I maintain some loyalty to her. But frankly, I just don't get the point of her anymore. Seriously, can someone explain Claire Danes to me, preferably on my next day off when I have time to listen.
--3 p.m.: Laundry complete.
--3:30 p.m.: I'm very happy to hear that Bill Frist now supports stem cell research. But the next pundit who says that his support means something because of Frist's credentials as a doctor/scientist is cordially invited to Davis, CA for a glass of SHUT THE FUCK UP. "Dr." Frist is the slimy motherfucker who claimed to diagnose Terry Schiavo via video tape and who said on national television that HIV can be spread by through sweat and tears. Shouldn't you have to forfeit the title "Doctor" for saying stuff like that? Frist's opinion on stem cells matters because he's the majority leader of the U.S. Senate and because this is a policy shift away from the Christian conservative party line. But if Bill Frist gets to call himself "Doctor," then we need a new name for the people who work in hospitals and treat sick people.
--5 p.m.: Venture off the McNeil Manor grounds to retrieve Anna from work. We have a date with about eight (8) of my colleagues tonight.
--8:00 a.m.: The biggest struggle is getting clothes into the washer at all. As we left the house to take Anna to work, someone -- and I'm pretty sure it was someone who doesn't actually live here -- was changing her load of laundry. This is profoundly annoys me. Although maybe I shouldn't complain. Usually when strangers enter the McNeil Manor laundry room they pull a Hamilton Defecator.
--10 a.m.: I seem to have picked up the show Dawson's Creek when it airs during the day on TBS. It's a good clock by which to measure progress, two commericials is a washer load and three is a dryer. The show is remarkable drivel, yet I can't seem to stop watching. The sad part is that I know quality reruns of ER are on the TNT, exactly one channel below TBS, but I can't pull the trigger. It should be noted that I mute the Paula Cole intro song to hide my shame from the neighbors.
--10:20 a.m.: Watched Maggie Gyllenhaal's painful interview on The Daily Show repeat. I briefly considered dropping her from my team because, seriously, I want good quotes on in my locker room. Back to Dawson.
--1 p.m.: Heading out to move clothes I encounter our mitupple-mit-kinder neighbors as they returned from the doctor. Apparently the 2-month-old, who looks like he should be in kindergarten, needed his first shots. As we were talking, a ringing fart emanated from the kid's diaper region. This, it seems, was cause for celebration because both parents cheered.
--2 p.m.: Remember Claire Danes? I watched The Rainmaker, a movie in which she plays a battered wife who is saved by crusading lawyer Matt Damon. Part of her will always be Angela Chase to me, so I maintain some loyalty to her. But frankly, I just don't get the point of her anymore. Seriously, can someone explain Claire Danes to me, preferably on my next day off when I have time to listen.
--3 p.m.: Laundry complete.
--3:30 p.m.: I'm very happy to hear that Bill Frist now supports stem cell research. But the next pundit who says that his support means something because of Frist's credentials as a doctor/scientist is cordially invited to Davis, CA for a glass of SHUT THE FUCK UP. "Dr." Frist is the slimy motherfucker who claimed to diagnose Terry Schiavo via video tape and who said on national television that HIV can be spread by through sweat and tears. Shouldn't you have to forfeit the title "Doctor" for saying stuff like that? Frist's opinion on stem cells matters because he's the majority leader of the U.S. Senate and because this is a policy shift away from the Christian conservative party line. But if Bill Frist gets to call himself "Doctor," then we need a new name for the people who work in hospitals and treat sick people.
--5 p.m.: Venture off the McNeil Manor grounds to retrieve Anna from work. We have a date with about eight (8) of my colleagues tonight.
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