When I lived at the Lodge back in the day, my roomies and I used to talk a lot about the ways that Mini Fridge could be improved to make it more convenient for us to retrieve beer without getting up off of Soft Couch. You can make all the arguments you want that it's ridiculous to improve on the convenience of a refrigerator that sits right next to the couch. We heard it all, and it didn't faze us. If you're making such arguements, you obviously haven't thought of the inconvenience to someone sitting in the Ass Magnet, as Mini Fridge's door opened toward that person, and he had to perform some pretty tricky feats of flexibility to get a beer without leaving his seat. Or maybe you didn't consider the people seated at the opposite end of Soft Couch, as they couldn't possibly reach the fridge. A person sitting in Brown Chair had much the same problem. Besides, this was before we had a Tivo, and we had to do something during commercials. So we discussed how we could make Mini Fridge better.
Some people aren't content with discussion, though. Showing the type of ingenuity and can-do spirit that made this country great (not to mention fat and lazy), this guy from Duke built a solution. You should totally check it out. It's simply marvelous.
And for those of you who don't want to check it, go ahead and watch this video.
Robotic Beer Launching Refrigerator
Monday, February 26, 2007
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Luck be the AbsPod
Here's a follow-up on yesterday's post explaining once again that not only am I an idiot, but allowing myself to be irritated only leads to bad things.
All day yesterday I was wondering what the possibilities were that I would get my iPod back. When I filled out the Lost Item Form at the airport on Sunday night, I asked the woman working there what she thought my chances were of me getting the AbsPod back. She said, "Well, if it's still there and our people find it, they'll send it back. But if someone else found it, it's pretty much gone." That was an impressive non-prediction from her. So I calmly fretted about it for much of the day yesterday, willing myself not to call early and often. Instead, I waited until about 3:30 to call, at which point no one answered. I got a voice mail box indicating that I could leave a message. So I did, but I felt very sure that no one would call me back.
The hours crawled by without a return call, and I tried to decide whether that meant that they didn't find it in Michigan, or whether they just didn't have it back at DCA yet. Surprisingly, I wasn't able to work that out, but I thought about it any way. After 3 hours, I decided they weren't going to call me back at all. Still, I decided that I would not inundate them with phone calls, as that would drove both them and me crazy. So I waited.
I was talking with the Girl around 7:40, and I got another call from a phone number I didn't recognize it. I quickly answered to find that it was the woman from Northwest Baggage Services, and she said, "You know we got your iPod back." What?! HELL NO I DIDN'T! "You can pick it up whenever you like."
So I scooted over there and picked it up without much trouble. Rather than having to replace it, I had to worry for a day, make two trips to the airport, and pay $4 for parking. That's not a bad reclamation fee.
I happily left the airport without even asking if I would be credited with frequent flier miles for the round trip to Grand Rapids.
All day yesterday I was wondering what the possibilities were that I would get my iPod back. When I filled out the Lost Item Form at the airport on Sunday night, I asked the woman working there what she thought my chances were of me getting the AbsPod back. She said, "Well, if it's still there and our people find it, they'll send it back. But if someone else found it, it's pretty much gone." That was an impressive non-prediction from her. So I calmly fretted about it for much of the day yesterday, willing myself not to call early and often. Instead, I waited until about 3:30 to call, at which point no one answered. I got a voice mail box indicating that I could leave a message. So I did, but I felt very sure that no one would call me back.
The hours crawled by without a return call, and I tried to decide whether that meant that they didn't find it in Michigan, or whether they just didn't have it back at DCA yet. Surprisingly, I wasn't able to work that out, but I thought about it any way. After 3 hours, I decided they weren't going to call me back at all. Still, I decided that I would not inundate them with phone calls, as that would drove both them and me crazy. So I waited.
I was talking with the Girl around 7:40, and I got another call from a phone number I didn't recognize it. I quickly answered to find that it was the woman from Northwest Baggage Services, and she said, "You know we got your iPod back." What?! HELL NO I DIDN'T! "You can pick it up whenever you like."
So I scooted over there and picked it up without much trouble. Rather than having to replace it, I had to worry for a day, make two trips to the airport, and pay $4 for parking. That's not a bad reclamation fee.
I happily left the airport without even asking if I would be credited with frequent flier miles for the round trip to Grand Rapids.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Good, Bad, and Ugly
This weekend, the Girl and I jetted off to Indiana. Sure, some people like to get away to someplace warm during a February cold snap, but we went someplace even colder. And I know that some people like to go someplace that might be considered hip, where things are happening. However, we had a very specific goal on this trip: to watch our beloved Hoosiers play in person in the Assembly Hall in Bloomington, IN. And watch we did.
We flew into Indy on Friday (going direct and being sure to avoid Atlanta), and managed to borrow a vehicle from my folks that had neither a flat tire nor a cracked windshield, and we headed down to B-town. We saw some friends, had some meals, went to some bars, and watched the Hoosiers eke out a closer-than-we-hoped-but-very-exciting-all-the-same victory against the Illini. Good times. There was snow, I ate a breaded pork tenderloin, and we tooled around in a pickup truck. It was a very Hoosier weekend as far as I was concerned. It was, without question, Good.
While driving back and forth, we used the AbsPod (which is my shiny, relatively new, black 80GB iPod with video) and an iTrip to listen to the tunes we liked on the truck's radio. On the way back to Indy, the battery in the AbsPod just gave out, which was a bummer, since we had a plane trip coming up, and I might need to use it to watch or listen to something to entertain myself while the Girl slept (she typically falls asleep on planes well before take off). Luckily, we had some time to visit with my folks in Indy before heading to the airport, and I took advantage of that time to give the AbsPod a bit of a charge, asking everyone around to help me remember it before I left. They all obliged, and I remembered the AbsPod when we went off to the airport.
At the airport, I got to experience a couple of the ways in which the TSA hates me. There was only a short line at security, but it seemed to be growing rapidly. While we were waiting, one woman just offered a bit of an "excuse me" and ignored everyone's complaints as she weaved through all the would-be travelers in line and eased through the machines. As we were discussing how rude that was, another woman began lifting the barricade ropes and escorting a man to the front of the line. Noticing annoyed looks, she said, "We have a Clear passenger." You could hear the capital letter. "Oh, well, in that case, of course. Go right ahead." I was irked. On her way back, she stopped to tell me that I should pick up their brocure. Rather than punch her in the kneecap for trying to sell me something while being condescending at the same time, I asked if it cost money and sent her on her way when she said it was about $100/year. Now, I know about this program where people pay to have background checks and do biometric identification to get through security faster, but I think has to be a better way to handle it than making everyone who's already in line move out of the way for the royalty to get through. I almost went all Monty Python and hollered, "Help! Help! I'm being oppressed!"
But I'm sure I wasn't being fair to these people skipping past all of us waiting our turn in line. I was already predisposed to annoyance because I could see that this security line was making everyone go through a Puffer. For those of you who haven't experienced one, the Puffer is the most irritating fake security measure the TSA has come up with yet. I can't get into a rant about that right here, because neither you nor I have the time, but suffice it to say that these devices make me think that a little monkeying with things would be a good idea. It also makes me think that the TSA is trying to make the airways safe by annoying travelers enough so that they will just not fly anywhere. Planes without passengers are inherently safe from terrorists. Even more irritating is that the Puffer, in conjunction with people constantly cutting through the line, had backed things up so much that they opened a second, non-puffer security line just as I got to the front of the more irritating one. However, since my blood pressure is rising just thinking about all of this, let's move on.
Our plane was a regional jet, and we took off only a few minutes late after the ground crew added some ballast to the cargo hold to help balance the plane. I'm all for the plane being balanced, so that slight delay didn't bother me even a little bit. We also landed on time, but we had to sit on the tarmac for 30 minutes because there was another plane in our gate. Pretty much everyone on the plane thought it was ridiculously annoying, but there was nothing we could do about it. I kept myself entertained by alternately reading and laughing at the flight attndant, who repeatedly marched up and down the aisle insisting that anyone who had unbuckled his seat belt put it back on. I'm not making this up. She was very concerned about those seat belts staying on and told several people that they "needed" to put their belts back on. Every time she heard the click of a seat belt, she raised her head and marched down the aisle to find the offender. By the time we got to a gate, I was pretty irritated, and I grabbed my bag, coat, and book and deplaned as quickly as I could, which wasn't very quickly given that the Girl and I were seated in the very last row. Security irritation and sitting on the tarmac for a half hour: Bad.
Still, we'd had a good trip and a good weekend, and our bags came out of the baggage return very quickly. After a short cab ride, I was back at home sort of unpacking. It was at that point that i realized that the AbsPod was nowhere to be found. In my annoyance, I had departed the plane without retrieving my iPod from the seat back pouch I had put it in when I first sat down. I did some googling to figure out what to do, and it wasn't very clear. So I called Northwest reservations who told me he wasn't sure, but he thought I would have to call the ticket counter at the aiport. Unfortunately, they don't have a number one can call (what?!), so I would just have to go there the next day (they were naturally closed at 9 PM on a Sunday). Instead, I drove to the airport. I figured maybe the plane was still there, maybe I could get someone to get it for me, assuming the cleaning crew hadn't found and kept it. After asking around about what to do, I went to Northwest's baggage services office and explained my plight. The very nice and efficient woman there told me that the plane had already left for Grand Rapids. As I filled out a form, she called the Grand Rapids airport and asked someone there to check my seat back pouch -- the plane had just landed here -- for the AbsPod and to send it back to DCA if they found it. She gave me a number to call this afternoon and no predictions on whether I would get the device back. So I trudged back to my car contemplating the Ugly thought that I might have to replace the AbsPod and that I have once again proven that I am, without question, an idiot.
We flew into Indy on Friday (going direct and being sure to avoid Atlanta), and managed to borrow a vehicle from my folks that had neither a flat tire nor a cracked windshield, and we headed down to B-town. We saw some friends, had some meals, went to some bars, and watched the Hoosiers eke out a closer-than-we-hoped-but-very-exciting-all-the-same victory against the Illini. Good times. There was snow, I ate a breaded pork tenderloin, and we tooled around in a pickup truck. It was a very Hoosier weekend as far as I was concerned. It was, without question, Good.
While driving back and forth, we used the AbsPod (which is my shiny, relatively new, black 80GB iPod with video) and an iTrip to listen to the tunes we liked on the truck's radio. On the way back to Indy, the battery in the AbsPod just gave out, which was a bummer, since we had a plane trip coming up, and I might need to use it to watch or listen to something to entertain myself while the Girl slept (she typically falls asleep on planes well before take off). Luckily, we had some time to visit with my folks in Indy before heading to the airport, and I took advantage of that time to give the AbsPod a bit of a charge, asking everyone around to help me remember it before I left. They all obliged, and I remembered the AbsPod when we went off to the airport.
At the airport, I got to experience a couple of the ways in which the TSA hates me. There was only a short line at security, but it seemed to be growing rapidly. While we were waiting, one woman just offered a bit of an "excuse me" and ignored everyone's complaints as she weaved through all the would-be travelers in line and eased through the machines. As we were discussing how rude that was, another woman began lifting the barricade ropes and escorting a man to the front of the line. Noticing annoyed looks, she said, "We have a Clear passenger." You could hear the capital letter. "Oh, well, in that case, of course. Go right ahead." I was irked. On her way back, she stopped to tell me that I should pick up their brocure. Rather than punch her in the kneecap for trying to sell me something while being condescending at the same time, I asked if it cost money and sent her on her way when she said it was about $100/year. Now, I know about this program where people pay to have background checks and do biometric identification to get through security faster, but I think has to be a better way to handle it than making everyone who's already in line move out of the way for the royalty to get through. I almost went all Monty Python and hollered, "Help! Help! I'm being oppressed!"
But I'm sure I wasn't being fair to these people skipping past all of us waiting our turn in line. I was already predisposed to annoyance because I could see that this security line was making everyone go through a Puffer. For those of you who haven't experienced one, the Puffer is the most irritating fake security measure the TSA has come up with yet. I can't get into a rant about that right here, because neither you nor I have the time, but suffice it to say that these devices make me think that a little monkeying with things would be a good idea. It also makes me think that the TSA is trying to make the airways safe by annoying travelers enough so that they will just not fly anywhere. Planes without passengers are inherently safe from terrorists. Even more irritating is that the Puffer, in conjunction with people constantly cutting through the line, had backed things up so much that they opened a second, non-puffer security line just as I got to the front of the more irritating one. However, since my blood pressure is rising just thinking about all of this, let's move on.
Our plane was a regional jet, and we took off only a few minutes late after the ground crew added some ballast to the cargo hold to help balance the plane. I'm all for the plane being balanced, so that slight delay didn't bother me even a little bit. We also landed on time, but we had to sit on the tarmac for 30 minutes because there was another plane in our gate. Pretty much everyone on the plane thought it was ridiculously annoying, but there was nothing we could do about it. I kept myself entertained by alternately reading and laughing at the flight attndant, who repeatedly marched up and down the aisle insisting that anyone who had unbuckled his seat belt put it back on. I'm not making this up. She was very concerned about those seat belts staying on and told several people that they "needed" to put their belts back on. Every time she heard the click of a seat belt, she raised her head and marched down the aisle to find the offender. By the time we got to a gate, I was pretty irritated, and I grabbed my bag, coat, and book and deplaned as quickly as I could, which wasn't very quickly given that the Girl and I were seated in the very last row. Security irritation and sitting on the tarmac for a half hour: Bad.
Still, we'd had a good trip and a good weekend, and our bags came out of the baggage return very quickly. After a short cab ride, I was back at home sort of unpacking. It was at that point that i realized that the AbsPod was nowhere to be found. In my annoyance, I had departed the plane without retrieving my iPod from the seat back pouch I had put it in when I first sat down. I did some googling to figure out what to do, and it wasn't very clear. So I called Northwest reservations who told me he wasn't sure, but he thought I would have to call the ticket counter at the aiport. Unfortunately, they don't have a number one can call (what?!), so I would just have to go there the next day (they were naturally closed at 9 PM on a Sunday). Instead, I drove to the airport. I figured maybe the plane was still there, maybe I could get someone to get it for me, assuming the cleaning crew hadn't found and kept it. After asking around about what to do, I went to Northwest's baggage services office and explained my plight. The very nice and efficient woman there told me that the plane had already left for Grand Rapids. As I filled out a form, she called the Grand Rapids airport and asked someone there to check my seat back pouch -- the plane had just landed here -- for the AbsPod and to send it back to DCA if they found it. She gave me a number to call this afternoon and no predictions on whether I would get the device back. So I trudged back to my car contemplating the Ugly thought that I might have to replace the AbsPod and that I have once again proven that I am, without question, an idiot.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Bad or Worse: You Make the Call
I've been contemplating two hypothetical situations and the impact they might have on one's day, and I just can't decide which one would move the needle more. So I figured I'd toss it out there so you could make the call.
Situation 1
You're working from home, and you realize as you pour your first soda of the day that you have foolishly allowed your soda supply to be depleted. However, you're doing some work and such, and you don't really feel like making a special trip to the store just for the soda. So you do nothing. As the day goes on, you decide that it's really not appropriate for your first soda of the day to be your only soda of the day, and you decide to rectify the situation.
The exercise room in your complex has a soda machine in it. Granted a 20 oz. bottle of that which you desire costs a whopping $1.25, but such is your yen for that carbonated NutraSweet-y goodness that you are willing to deal with the extra moolah involved. So you bundle up (it's cold out there), grab a dollar bill and a quarter, and trudge to the exercise room, using the few moments of travel time to ponder a) why there isn't a soda machine in your building or perhaps even your apartment and b) just what it says about you that you are going to the exercise room for the specific purpose of buying a soda. Arriving at your destination, you brush those thoughts away like so many gnats flitting around your head (there are some benefits to the cold, you reckon). You feed the greedy machine the paper and metal money and consider a new quandary: there are two buttons with Diet Coke labels; which one to push? This question doesn't slow you down much, and you punch the top Diet Coke button. The machine responds with the normal whirrings and plunks and you bend down to pull out ... a gahdamned Fanta Orange Soda.
You don't drink Fanta Orange soda. You don't want Fanta Orange soda. If you did, you would have pushed its button, which is at the very bottom of the array of buttons, nowhere near the second one from the top that you pushed. Quick! Use the other button! Nope, sorry. You only brought enough money to buy one soda. It looks like you're going without another soda for a while. Now go back out in the cold and walk home. Take that soda with you, though.
Situation 2
It's early in the morning. Just how early, you're not sure, as you are doing what ought to be done early in the morning: sleeping. Suffice it to say, though, that it is nowhere near an hour when any reasonable person would desire to be awake. You might be engaged in a dream. You might be chewing up the REM cycles. You might be caught in the comfy warm bliss of the dreamless. You might be rolling over. You know not because, as mentioned before, you are asleep.
OW! All of a sudden you wake up because you just bit the ass out of your tongue.
Bad or Worse: You make the call. And my sincerest condolences for any poor soul who suffers both fates on the same day.
Situation 1
You're working from home, and you realize as you pour your first soda of the day that you have foolishly allowed your soda supply to be depleted. However, you're doing some work and such, and you don't really feel like making a special trip to the store just for the soda. So you do nothing. As the day goes on, you decide that it's really not appropriate for your first soda of the day to be your only soda of the day, and you decide to rectify the situation.
The exercise room in your complex has a soda machine in it. Granted a 20 oz. bottle of that which you desire costs a whopping $1.25, but such is your yen for that carbonated NutraSweet-y goodness that you are willing to deal with the extra moolah involved. So you bundle up (it's cold out there), grab a dollar bill and a quarter, and trudge to the exercise room, using the few moments of travel time to ponder a) why there isn't a soda machine in your building or perhaps even your apartment and b) just what it says about you that you are going to the exercise room for the specific purpose of buying a soda. Arriving at your destination, you brush those thoughts away like so many gnats flitting around your head (there are some benefits to the cold, you reckon). You feed the greedy machine the paper and metal money and consider a new quandary: there are two buttons with Diet Coke labels; which one to push? This question doesn't slow you down much, and you punch the top Diet Coke button. The machine responds with the normal whirrings and plunks and you bend down to pull out ... a gahdamned Fanta Orange Soda.
You don't drink Fanta Orange soda. You don't want Fanta Orange soda. If you did, you would have pushed its button, which is at the very bottom of the array of buttons, nowhere near the second one from the top that you pushed. Quick! Use the other button! Nope, sorry. You only brought enough money to buy one soda. It looks like you're going without another soda for a while. Now go back out in the cold and walk home. Take that soda with you, though.
Situation 2
It's early in the morning. Just how early, you're not sure, as you are doing what ought to be done early in the morning: sleeping. Suffice it to say, though, that it is nowhere near an hour when any reasonable person would desire to be awake. You might be engaged in a dream. You might be chewing up the REM cycles. You might be caught in the comfy warm bliss of the dreamless. You might be rolling over. You know not because, as mentioned before, you are asleep.
OW! All of a sudden you wake up because you just bit the ass out of your tongue.
Bad or Worse: You make the call. And my sincerest condolences for any poor soul who suffers both fates on the same day.
Friday, February 02, 2007
I Sit Resolved
Well, what the hell ... I'll go ahead and stand resolved, although that sounds like a lot of work. Besides, it fits better with the year ahead (more on that later).
While I haven't yet written a by-the-numbers (or any other) type of look back at 2006 (but I likely will), I wanted to go ahead and talk about 2007. As I've mentioned before, in general, I'm against making resolutions to start the new year. Maybe it's because everyone does it, and I think I'm unique and counter-cultural and such (says the Kid in his friggin' blog). Maybe it's because it's exhausting to hear people talk about them. Maybe it's because it's harder to fail to live to up to resolutions you don't make. Maybe it's because I think they're for namby-pamby, touchy-feely types who decide they're going to be funnier (they aren't) or happier (it's a 50-50 shot) or smarter (no chance) or better to the environment (possibly). (Remind me to tell you more about that environment one another time.) But maybe, just maybe my real issue here is with the connotation I've attached to the word "resolution." So I've decided to not make any resolutions for 2007.
I can make some goals, though. That would clearly be a very different thing. Goals are good, right? Everyone needs goals. So without more of this nomadic preamble, I present to you Abs's Major Initiatives 2007.
Because, dammit!
This cleverly-named initiative could more clearly be called "Procrastinate Less," But I like cleverly-named things, and "Be Less Annoyingly Snarky and Obtuse" didn't make the cut this year. The truth is that the ability to procrastinate runs strong in my family. My granny had it. (Perhaps that's the real reason that her ashes are still attending Christmas gatherings.) My father has it. My mother has it. My brother has it. And I have it.
In college, a couple of guys in my dorm and I considered ourselves to be the Pillars of the Dorm Procrastination Team. Any one of the three who actually tried to study was absolutely ridiculed by the other two. Twisting the Nike catch phrase of the day, our slogan was "Why Do It?" Amazingly, we all managed to stick around and graduate, but we never stopped mildly reveling in our tendency and ability to put things off. And that's fine, but I'm hoping to do it less this year.
In case you're wondering whether I see the irony in stating my goal to procrastinate less this year at the beginning of the second month of the year, I do. And I think you should shut the hell up about it. First, this isn't your post. More importantly, I said I was going to do it less, not eliminate it entirely.
More than anything, though, I think this goal feeds directly into the second initiative ...
Clean Apartment 2007
My apartment is generally a mess. It's not a crazy mess that you can't walk through or see table tops or get attacked by mutant killer bacteria or anything, but it is generally cluttered and just messy. I honestly like the apartment better when it's clean, but I don't at all like cleaning it. Really, it's just that I put off things like putting away clean clothes, putting books back on the shelves, putting dirty clothes in the laundry nook, taking the trash or recycling out, dealing with my mail, and generally getting rid of the dead bodies. So you see that procrastination plays a big part here. Really, I'm thinking the "Because, dammit!" initiative will mostly take care of this one. That way, I get two goals for the price of one, and that's just good sense.
Neither of these really have much to do with the third and most important initiative ...
Find a Better Hiding Place
No, I don't have a bunch of jam-handed, ankle-biting youngsters around who are better at playing Hide and Seek than I am. This is another obscurely but perhaps cleverly named initiative. The one I'm playing Hide and Seek with is Death. He's "it," though.
The key here is to be healthier. My family tree shows many a wound from heart attacks and strokes and diabetes and loquacity. (At least it would if someone put together my family tree. And if family trees had wounds from the entrants' health and other problems.) Since I'm not likely to do anything about the wordiness, I thought I'd concentrate more on the health problems. At this point, I haven't really suffered from anything worse than some allergies and bad ankles, but I reckon I have to try to get out of the way of those more major issues now rather than when they come knocking on the door because they keep you from finding good hiding places. Having one of those things is akin to hiding in the middle of a brightly lit room. That robe-wearin', scythe-carryin' bitch called Death has no trouble at all finding those types of people. I reckon being healthier helps one find a better hiding place.
If you want a more entertaining explanation of the reasoning behind such an initiative, take a gander at Kevin Smith's blog. I share several of his reasons, and he writes them better. Besides, Silent Bob speaking is a good thing.
How do I plan on being healthier? By the magic plan of eating things I don't love and doing things I'd rather not do. Don't eat pizza or chips and queso quite as often. Eat some damned vegatables. Get off the couch and go to the gym once in a while. Eat better and exercise more. I heard somewhere that it's good for you.
Still, that's a bunch of hand waving. In this particular case, I need to be able to quantify things. So, recognizing that this ought to be a long-haul type of goal, I'm setting the relatively modest aim of weighing 10% less than I do now on December 31, 2007. Really, it's 10% less than when I actively started this initiative, which was two whole days ago, but you get the idea. I don't know if that sounds like a lot to you, but I think it's pretty daggone modest when you look at what some people do.
That's about it. I could have come up with more, but I think that I have quite enough to be going on with this year. Besides, I can do those others next year.
While I haven't yet written a by-the-numbers (or any other) type of look back at 2006 (but I likely will), I wanted to go ahead and talk about 2007. As I've mentioned before, in general, I'm against making resolutions to start the new year. Maybe it's because everyone does it, and I think I'm unique and counter-cultural and such (says the Kid in his friggin' blog). Maybe it's because it's exhausting to hear people talk about them. Maybe it's because it's harder to fail to live to up to resolutions you don't make. Maybe it's because I think they're for namby-pamby, touchy-feely types who decide they're going to be funnier (they aren't) or happier (it's a 50-50 shot) or smarter (no chance) or better to the environment (possibly). (Remind me to tell you more about that environment one another time.) But maybe, just maybe my real issue here is with the connotation I've attached to the word "resolution." So I've decided to not make any resolutions for 2007.
I can make some goals, though. That would clearly be a very different thing. Goals are good, right? Everyone needs goals. So without more of this nomadic preamble, I present to you Abs's Major Initiatives 2007.
Because, dammit!
This cleverly-named initiative could more clearly be called "Procrastinate Less," But I like cleverly-named things, and "Be Less Annoyingly Snarky and Obtuse" didn't make the cut this year. The truth is that the ability to procrastinate runs strong in my family. My granny had it. (Perhaps that's the real reason that her ashes are still attending Christmas gatherings.) My father has it. My mother has it. My brother has it. And I have it.
In college, a couple of guys in my dorm and I considered ourselves to be the Pillars of the Dorm Procrastination Team. Any one of the three who actually tried to study was absolutely ridiculed by the other two. Twisting the Nike catch phrase of the day, our slogan was "Why Do It?" Amazingly, we all managed to stick around and graduate, but we never stopped mildly reveling in our tendency and ability to put things off. And that's fine, but I'm hoping to do it less this year.
In case you're wondering whether I see the irony in stating my goal to procrastinate less this year at the beginning of the second month of the year, I do. And I think you should shut the hell up about it. First, this isn't your post. More importantly, I said I was going to do it less, not eliminate it entirely.
More than anything, though, I think this goal feeds directly into the second initiative ...
Clean Apartment 2007
My apartment is generally a mess. It's not a crazy mess that you can't walk through or see table tops or get attacked by mutant killer bacteria or anything, but it is generally cluttered and just messy. I honestly like the apartment better when it's clean, but I don't at all like cleaning it. Really, it's just that I put off things like putting away clean clothes, putting books back on the shelves, putting dirty clothes in the laundry nook, taking the trash or recycling out, dealing with my mail, and generally getting rid of the dead bodies. So you see that procrastination plays a big part here. Really, I'm thinking the "Because, dammit!" initiative will mostly take care of this one. That way, I get two goals for the price of one, and that's just good sense.
Neither of these really have much to do with the third and most important initiative ...
Find a Better Hiding Place
No, I don't have a bunch of jam-handed, ankle-biting youngsters around who are better at playing Hide and Seek than I am. This is another obscurely but perhaps cleverly named initiative. The one I'm playing Hide and Seek with is Death. He's "it," though.
The key here is to be healthier. My family tree shows many a wound from heart attacks and strokes and diabetes and loquacity. (At least it would if someone put together my family tree. And if family trees had wounds from the entrants' health and other problems.) Since I'm not likely to do anything about the wordiness, I thought I'd concentrate more on the health problems. At this point, I haven't really suffered from anything worse than some allergies and bad ankles, but I reckon I have to try to get out of the way of those more major issues now rather than when they come knocking on the door because they keep you from finding good hiding places. Having one of those things is akin to hiding in the middle of a brightly lit room. That robe-wearin', scythe-carryin' bitch called Death has no trouble at all finding those types of people. I reckon being healthier helps one find a better hiding place.
If you want a more entertaining explanation of the reasoning behind such an initiative, take a gander at Kevin Smith's blog. I share several of his reasons, and he writes them better. Besides, Silent Bob speaking is a good thing.
How do I plan on being healthier? By the magic plan of eating things I don't love and doing things I'd rather not do. Don't eat pizza or chips and queso quite as often. Eat some damned vegatables. Get off the couch and go to the gym once in a while. Eat better and exercise more. I heard somewhere that it's good for you.
Still, that's a bunch of hand waving. In this particular case, I need to be able to quantify things. So, recognizing that this ought to be a long-haul type of goal, I'm setting the relatively modest aim of weighing 10% less than I do now on December 31, 2007. Really, it's 10% less than when I actively started this initiative, which was two whole days ago, but you get the idea. I don't know if that sounds like a lot to you, but I think it's pretty daggone modest when you look at what some people do.
That's about it. I could have come up with more, but I think that I have quite enough to be going on with this year. Besides, I can do those others next year.
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