The Enemy of the Good (eideteker) wrote,
The Enemy of the Good

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Sadly, I'm doomed to be an optimist

This weekend, Tom and I went apple picking with Becca and her friends. I didn't have money for a bag and I just planned to enjoy the fresh air and a walk. But I started eating apples off the trees and I realized that, duh, I love apples, so I took off my flannel and made it into a sling (Johnny Appleseed style). I also got a pumpkin (which I did pay for), because I realized I've never actually carved one. I was too young to do much except draw with a pencil on the pumpkins we picked as kids, and since about age 6, we haven't made jack-o-lanterns. I don't know where I'm going to put it, though.

Monday night, Tom showed me how to change my oil. That was an adventure in itself; just getting the filter off on an F-150 is akin to surgery. We had to remove this plastic thing underneath the filter that catches the drip in order to unscrew the filter, rendering the drip pan thingy useless. Next, I'll have to learn how to change the oil on my bike because there's not a lot showing up in the little windowglass on the engine. Tonight, however, I showed Tom how to lube the chain on his bike. We walked down the street to the new BBQ place and it was good (ribs were tasty but dry). Throughout all this mansmanship (piehead's term), we were sure to grunt, belch, and scratch ourselves the requisite number of times. And yes, I got greasy, despite my cleanliness fetish.

The fingernail on my pinky, which I smashed just before leaving Ithaca in a bowling ball mishap, is still hanging on. I've stopped the practice of putting a Band-Aid on it, because I don't think it's actually going to fall off by itself. It might get torn off, but I don't think a Band-Aid is going to prevent that from happening if and when it does. All the dried blood under the nail makes it look painted, plus the fact that I haven't wanted to cut the scabs stuck to the nail means it looks like I'm growing a cokenail. With careful discipline, I can remove the whole scabbed-over (under, technically) area at once and examine it for... science, or something. But hey, in the meanwhile, I can marvel at just how slowly my nails grow.

Uhh, what else? I'm thinking that getting this all out will cure my insomnia so I can sleep/become a viking (of love!). Becca and I leave in my truck for the smandenberg wedding Thursday at the fissure of dawn. The plan is to drive as far as we can (assuming I did things right and my truck is not losing oil), get a hotel for the night, and finish by arriving in Chapel Hill some time around noon. Considering that I drove from NJ to Gainesville in 24 hours (including sleep time), this should be a cake walk. I drew up a list today, in preparation for the trip. I believe I can complete it before it's go time, which makes me happy!
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