I'm sitting at the desk with a cup of coffee, earphones on listening to AC/DC ("Who Made Who?") on Pandora.com. This is one of my very favorite things to do on an early weekend morning before the world brightens and stirs.
Actually, any day that starts with music and/or a bike ride puts me in a fine state of mind. I need that these days, seeing as how my present job has me knee-deep in tediousness and miopic management foofraw much of the time. Pardon me, just a little rant, missing my old job and comrades. At least I can say my week days go by really fast because to accomplish ANYTHING I have to be at a fair trot. Fancy "managing" and "coordinating" individuals who don't have to do what you ask of them and who don't have anything like the desire you have to GET SH!T DONE. And you can't yell at them or call them names. this is like my seventh circle of Hades. I can hear my old work-mates guffawing over their fish tacos as I speak. Type. Whatever.
Perhaps I should state here that I feel fortunate and grateful to be employed. This is me doing that now.
we're finally in the new apartment, and it's one of our better decisions. Small? Oh yeah. We haven't lived this small since the early days of our marriage. It's just the right size, though. I don't know why we felt we needed a separate office space. *snort!* "Office", like I really worked in there. The "office" was where I slaughtered enemy zombies and Nazis and watched YouTube videos. Yeah, it's like I just stopped maturing at fifteen years old. Except we didn't have this stuff when I was fifteen. We youngsters had to stage G.I. Joe® Apocalypse in the back yard in real time, with real fire, by gawd. I love the smell of singed plastic in the morning. The parents, and my kid brother whose G.I. Joe® I incinerated, not so much.
I wasn't a troubled child. Everyone else seemed a lot more bothered than me.
I love this new place. It's orderly and efficient and just all-around more livable than the previous space. Our next-door neighbor can't park his damned Volvo to save his life, and directly above us live a troupe of clog dancers, but having been a cliff-dweller for most of my adult life it doesn't bother me. Oddly, nobody lived in any of the other apartments around us in the old unit; the entire block was vacant except for us and we never have found out why. I kept expecting to be waylayed by former tenants in the parking lot, waving shaky fingers at the building and moaning "Noooo! Do not abide there!" and warning me of little girls from beyond who don't brush their hair.
Speaking of things that go *bump* in the night...I know it's a subjective thing and anyone is free to comment au contraire, but apparently about the only thing liable to go *bump* in the night in Albuquerque is drunk drivers. Don't get me wrong, 505'ers, I'm a YUGE fan of this city, but compared to my old stomping grounds (that being Portland, Oregon, natch) there's nary a whiff of the mystic here. Portland is Spook Factor Ten, Mr. Sulu. All that lovely misty rain and fog, silent side streets lined with old houses, mossy sidewalks, and looming bridges and trees make for quite the eerie atmosphere. It's reflected in the citizenry too, what with the dark clothing and the gloomy demeanor. Maybe it's different in the fall and winter months, but Albuquerque seems doomed by topography and meteorology, bereft of the kind of ambience that turns one's thoughts to the night side of Nature.
I'm sure these folk
would disagree. Perhaps I should do some research before I shoot off my fat fingers. I don't mean to say that I believe in the occurrence of paranormal phenomena in the absence of empirical evidence (of which I've read and experienced none), but I have an open mind and I'm a sucker for atmosphere. Now that I mention it, judging by my reaction to an experience I had with a waking dream many years ago (an apparition in blinding-white robes standing by the bed as I lay paralyzed in terror after an afternoon nap), open mind + sucker for atmosphere = susceptible to suggestion = first guy in the group to jump out the window after soiling his trousers. Maybe I should just research from HERE.
A long day of loafing awaits, to end with a nice twilight stroll through the neighborhood this evening. L8erz.