Watching blooper reels of comedy shows laughing during their own bits. I'm in the Hugh Laurie school of thought that says you should be miserable when making comedy. Having fun is a bad sign. 

Which makes sense to me. When you're having fun, things seem funnier than they are. This is different from the work being rewarding. It's also different from performing with someone who is genuinely making you laugh from their performance. 

Still not a good sign. 

* * *

I ended up just asking my mom what she would like for Christmas. She said she wanted Miss Dior perfume or a duster for her window blinds. Dammit Mom. I got her the perfume.

* * *

I still sing songs to Watson. After ten years of inserting his name into whatever random song pops into my head, I don't expect this to stop anytime soon. I suppose his ashes are in our house, so technically he's still around, but I don't think of his ashes as him. It does amuse me how odd it would seem to an outside observer. Singing to the ashes of my hound.

Don't know what to get my Mom for Christmas. She'll be happy with anything; which makes it worse. I loathe my inclination to get her "mom" stuff. Tupperware! Baking stuff! An extra-thick leather butt-whooping belt! Ha, yeah right. My mom would have to hit me with a car to do any damage these days. She just doesn't have that old child-smacking strength that comes from raising five kids. Hmm...unless she went for the eyes. 

I sent her a text message asking her what she would like. We talked on the phone last night and she scolded me for acting like a stranger. I told her that people are dying all over the place so I'm not going to come over until she gets vaccinated. She went on about mouthwash and a good diet curing Covid and I yelled that this is no time for magical thinking and to stay away from people. We never change the other's mind with our yelling but maybe it will work, this time.

Maybe I am taking things too literally these days.

Random Facebook Status Updates:

I've been helping my nephews with their homework for "To Kill A Mockingbird". I'm convinced schools teach it all wrong. I present it as murder mystery. My opener was: "Picture this: In the pitch-black darkness of night, a young boy is unconscious on the ground under a tree, his arm broken. There is a little girl there too, dressed up as a giant ham. Between them, a dead man lies in the dirt; a knife buried in his chest. Can you figure out who the killer is?"

Also I tell them to keep track of how many times Scout hands someone their ass. Physically and verbally.

I didn't care for the book the first couple times I read it, but I blame the way it's taught. I love the book now. Yes, there's all kinds of meaning in it, but can't we just enjoy it on the surface level first before we start dissecting it? You know this book's got jokes

* * * *

Last night I dreamed I was walking through a grove of great trees. Giraffes were everywhere, eating the leaves. A blue giraffe broke away from the group and began walking next to me. In my dream I said "Blue giraffe, huh? I wonder if this means anything."

* * * *

Public Service Announcement (aka reminder to myself): Never try to step over your pets. Always go around or make them move out of your way. This isn't a dominance/alpha thing (I don't subscribe to that hypothesis); it's a safety thing. What inevitably happens is I'll start to step over the dog, the dog will then be inspired to move out of the way, and suddenly I'm doing The Twist to a soundtrack of my swears, trying not to step on the hapless hound or fall on my own preposterous posterior.

Stepping over pets: JUST DON'T DO IT

Tinkering in my savings. Just looking around really. I save a lot for retirement now because I never saved before. Put in 12% of each paycheck into my S&P index fund. By "tinkering" I mean I projected out twenty years assuming nothing changes in my life. Potentially, I'd have a million dollars in the index fund. Could I retire? Maybe. It's complicated. Again, assuming nothing changes, the interest alone could make me between 30-50 thousand a year depending on how I use it. Certainly comfortable, assuming I have no debt at that point, which is certainly the plan.

I'm not sure how I feel about any of this. There's a grudging optimism, because this system is clearly designed to keep me working for decades and then my wealth will still serve the function of making someone else wealthier. More fuel for the machine to crush other workers.

Briefly, I considered purchasing my childhood home from my mother and renting that out for income. Which could work, if I don't mind being part of the problem.  

One of my in-laws took a loan out against their retirement savings to put into remodeling their house. Which I saw as unwise...well, I still see it as unwise but I suppose a much older person might feel like it's too late to really build up to that self-sustaining amount and just dump it all into something they enjoy now. Then draw on Social Security and hope for the best.

I've been working since I was 16. If I had a job like this back then, I would have my million dollars saved already. And what then? What would I do if I retired right now? Is it even something I need to wait to retire to do? 

My fear is that I've been in this head-down, plod-forward mode because historically, it's been difficult for me to live consistently. I worry about anything tipping me off-balance. Eliminate variables.

But I love the variables. Don't I?

Through patience, I see life.

I dreamed of flying. No, not flying. Jumping incredibly high. Almost like flying, I just had to decide where I wanted to end up before I left the ground.

This an ornament the puppies stole from the Christmas tree, and partially chewed. 

On the table are 3 croissants. I ate one. 

My foot and knee only ache a little today. Unexpected.

The puppies also got a Kylo Ren ornament, but don't appear to have damaged it. They remind me of cats in some ways. Especially when they perch on the arms of the couch. 

I miss Watson. 

Started looking at my view counts per post before I started writing. These numbers are important to me because I like to think that people should be working but instead are reading my nonsense. From what I understand, this qualifies as sticking it to The Man. It's not quite the level of pooping while on the job...yet. 

Sorry to all of you self-employed people who found their way here. No one's saying you can't stick it to yourself, of course. Sometimes you just gotta start sticking.

And some days you should be a good employee to yourself. 

There's a rainbow of rebellion to choose from; now go forth and paint the world. Also there are wavelengths that can't be seen by the human eye; try to work those in as well.

Sometimes I think the act of writing is playing a song. Then I remember that I don't know how to write a song and I stop thinking that. I'll think it again, later, despite myself.

Oh yeah, the vaccine for the plague has arrived. Unlikely I'll have access to it for months. I wonder if I should get tested to see if I have antibodies? I swear I felt a little off for a couple weeks in a way that did not feel like my typical brain hi-jinks. 

Perhaps I'm getting creative. Brain must be picking up on all this stick-it-to-The-Man talk going on around here. Too easily influenced. 

 

I've returned from my 6-Day Weekend adventure in idleness. I did not accomplish much. The house is cleaner. And the the furniture has been re-arranged. New light bulbs obtained. 

Christmas shopping seems a bit hollow this year. Must remember that the gesture is important. Even if it's crap we don't really need.

I did get rid of some of that. Some clothing I rarely wear. Donate it along. I think I meant to organize a bit more, but I did not.

It was a little sad vacuuming up Watson's fur tumbleweeds. His fur is till pretty much everywhere. There are strands on my big black coat. And who knows if my car will ever be completely fur-free. 

I'm going to start a new thing where I will get up on the weekends around 7 and go sleep on the couch in the living room. Get all the sunlight coming in from the windows. The couch is comfy but not as comfy as my bed, so I can get a jump start on my day. I hate that I sleep in so late. 

We'll see if it works to get me moving earlier. There's a lot of trouble to get in to, if only I put my mind to it.