Just When I Thought I Was Out...

At long last, I return to face my nemesis.  Hello, Toaster  

Ladies and gentlemen, it's a time of great strife.  Jeremy is returning once again to the theatre of war to do battle with everyone's arch nemesis.  

It was almost exactly one year ago when I said goodbye to my old office, having been forced to move to a different building in my work complex.  It was a bittersweet moment, because I had to move into a crappy cubicle, but the parking situation was significantly better.  Well, today I say goodbye to my crappy cubicle, having been forced to move to a different building in my work complex, to an even crappier cubicle because...reasons, I guess.  

Here's where it gets troubling...and mildly comical.  I'm moving back to the exact same building that I left one year ago.  My old office is still empty, in fact, but I don't get to go back there, but instead to a miserable location one floor above and adjacent to one of the most heavily traveled aisleways in the building.  It's going to suck.  

But, along with that suckage comes a much more profound suckage.  You all remember the Famed Toaster of Hades, right?   The unholy terror of breakfast time for so many poor innocents who had the audacity to want to warm stuff up.  Well, I'm moving right back to the building with the Adorably Tiny Cafeteria Thing In My Building.  Gone will be the days of the regular sized cafeteria in my current building with its fluctuating price policy on bottles of iced tea, an actual seating area, an actual selection of food, and toaster that doesn't set people's breakfast on fire all of the time.  In its place, we go back to the den of The Beast.  

I haven't been back to the Adorably Tiny Cafeteria Thing In My Building since I left that building.  Truth be told, I stopped going to the regular sized cafeteria due to the fluctuating price policy on bottles of iced tea, but that's beside the point.  I have left the Famed Toaster of Hades unchecked for nearly a full 12 months.  I shudder to think of the horrors it has wreaked upon the hungry masses in the time I've been away.  I don't necessarily look forward to renewing my battle with this abomination of breakfast, but I have no choice.  It is my mantle to bear.

Why Couldn't They Drink Water?

Silly me, I forgot to bring my umbrella to the soccer game.  Indoors.  

Just as well, I guess.  It would have been bad luck to open it inside anyway.  

I guess that's a point, but there's also something to be said for leaving the place not smelling like crappy beer.  

So, soccer fans are an interesting bunch.  They try their best to be consistently loud and rowdy for 90 minutes of game time (plus stoppage time and all that nonsense), but the simple fact is that there is a LOT of down time in a soccer game which doesn't necessarily deserve boisterous cheering.  As such, chants and songs are invented to keep the fans occupied until your team stops kicking the ball back to their goalie and actually makes a concerted effort to score a goal.  Unlike other sports where cheers of "step on his throat!" and "kick his *insert body part here*!" are plentiful, the cheer of choice for people following the American soccer team appears to be "I believe that we will win."  I was not aware of this until recently.  It's shockingly polite.  It is in no way an insult to the other team, or even an indictment of their soccer-playing abilities.  It's simply a statement opining the optimism of the American fans.  It's not even "We will win," it's "I believe."  It's subtle.  

You'd think the constant chanting and singing would lessen the dynamic contrast when a goal is actually scored, but you'd be wrong.  The decibel level does go up tremendously when something happens on the pitch...such as a goal in the opening minute of the game.  (Maybe you watched the game, but if not, this actually happened.)  The place got pretty loud right about then.  

Of course, when something even more exciting happens, such as the American team re-taking the lead with 4 minutes left to play (plus the whole stoppage time deal), the rowdiness needs to step up yet one more level.  This apparently involves throwing beers all over the place.  It was news to me.  Of course, you can't throw good beer...that would be expensive.  So, you do what you can, and throw crappy beer around the bar and continue with your celebration.  Which is all well and good unless you're in the path of said beer, and now it's time to do the laundry.  All because I forgot my umbrella. 

Darn You All To Heck!

I still darn socks, but not in the same way people used to

I'll bet you use an Overcast stitch, while the rest of the world has moved on to Blanket.  It's not too much trouble to learn the new methods, Jeremy.  

Uhm, what? 

What were you talking about?

 So not long ago, it was laundry day in the Jeremy household.  This involves the usual piles and soaps and machines and sorting and folding and putting stuff away.  Yes, I actually put the laundry away this time.  It also involved throwing socks away.  

See, I have quite a few socks As You May Be Aware, and occasionally, some of them develop holes.  One particular style of sock that I have, one that I tend to use for more physical activities, apparently sucks.  Within two cycles of laundry, two of these socks (Out of three pairs) had total blow-outs in the bottom.  While this makes life a little easier, in that I can simply combine the remaining good sock of the two pairs into one still-usable pair, I ended up throwing two others right the heck out.  

Fabulous story, Jeremy.  Wake us up, please.

So I came to remember that one word for repairing holes in fabric is to "darn" and it reminded me that "darn" is one of the words I used when I first discovered that my socks were totaled.   I believe my exact words were "Oh darn...these former piece of silk socks are full of fine holes."  Or something to that effect.  I don't remember exactly.