Dec 21 2010

charm city

Hey, remember a couple of weeks ago when I wrote about my ability to blog – or not blog, as the case may be – from the comfort of my sofa?  Well this is actually the first time I’ve done so.  And the sort of interesting part is that it’s not really my sofa.  It belongs to my friend Cait, and actually the most accurate way to describe it is that it’s not quite my sofa yet.  I probably should have mentioned when I was recently cleaning out my closets and throwing away all the useless crap I’ve been saving for the past decade and a half that there was a greater purpose to the endeavor.

Last weekend I piled all my clothes and my boxes of books into my new car and drove them an hour north to Baltimore.  Because that’s where I sort of live now.  I still have keys to an apartment in Alexandria, but I won’t be there until the new year.  And even then I’ll be spending most of my time putting more stuff into boxes.  Sometime around the middle of the month I’ll rent a truck to carry the few things I’m keeping that are too big to fit in a car.  I might go back to clean up a bit, but it’s just as likely that I’ll give somebody some money to do that for me.  Then I’ll take that set of keys I still have and hand them over to my landlord.  And just like that, I won’t be a Virginian any more.

It’s weird.  I’ve been in Alexandria since a month after I graduated from college, and the hardest thing about leaving is finding the right words for this post.  I’m taking that as a very good sign.


Dec 4 2010

i got no strings

We here in the technical support department of Hotrodtothe.com have had a productive morning.  We’ve finally entered the twenty-first century and set up a wireless router.  Now we can surf the internet from the comfort of our sofa, rather than being tied to our desk.  This is going to make not blogging a hell of a lot more comfortable.


Sep 24 2008

the nightmare couch

I think Dabysan is trying to kill me.

Late last week, Daby IM’ed me and asked if I wanted his couch.  He and Ms. Nation had jointly purchased a new sofa, and he was looking for a good home for the old one.  And – more significantly – looking for a sucker to rent a truck and help him move it to make room for the new model.  Now, I already have a sofa.  But Daby promised his was “the most comfortable in all of Christendom” and my spare bedroom is sorely lacking in upholstered furniture, so I figured I had room for two – at least for a while.  The thought of doubling my potential for lazy lounging sealed the deal.  I accepted.

So I all but recoiled in horror this evening when I arrived at Daby’s apartment to move my new couch into my apartment.  And as I recoiled in horror, I recalled that there had been very few occasions in the past however many years in which I have been seated on Daby’s couch, and that those few occasions on which I had been seated upon it had been so traumatic that I must have completely blocked them from my memory.  Most comfortable in all of Christendom, my ass.  This vile and unholy pile of wood and furniture stuffing was – is – upholstered with sandpaper and live scorpions.  Mere contact of bare skin on fabric would send chills down my spine and make me itchy.  An ordinary evening would result in a painful and unsightly rash.  Who knows what would happen after prolonged exposure?  Leprosy, certainly.  And death doesn’t seem out of the question.  I didn’t want to touch the thing to move it out of his apartment, let alone into mine.  I nearly left without a word, furious at Daby’s chicanery.

The sofa currently sits two stories below me in the basement of my building.  I’ve taken three showers since moving it and can still feel that abrasive fabric on my skin.  I’m about to run out for some steel wool.  That and some elbow grease may help me finally feel less…. unclean.  If I am able to make it ’til tomorrow without nightmares, I may be able to focus on just why Daby might want me dead.  Between the Rock Band incident and this, I must be cautious.  You better believe when I walk out my front door in the morning, I’m going to look up to make sure there’s not an anvil suspended above my head.


Sep 21 2008

upon further review

I’ve had a couple of long-ass days on the bike this weekend.  Yesterday, it fell to me to sweep the course on our last long training ride before the Seagull Century.  What should have been about a seven-hour day for me (maybe less, the way I’ve been riding lately) turned into just over ten.  The last thing I wanted to do this morning was get up at five-thirty to get back out on the road.  But I had promised to help out a friend on a charity ride that he and his oncologist organized.  I didn’t realize when I offered to help that I was volunteering for Ride Marshal duty, but there you have it.

So my modified plan for this afternoon is to become as close to horizontal as my sofa allows.  I will stare at the television – with Towel in clenched fist – until I start drooling on myself.  I briefly considered on the way home from Poolesville making some chili so I could have a four-way by the second half, but I frankly don’t care to expend even the modest mental energy required to dice onions.  So yeah – no live-blog today.  Maybe I’ll try again next Monday night when the Steelers take on the Ravens.  As for this afternoon, though, yinz’ll have to find your own way to hurl insults at the Cap’n.  You’re a bright bunch; I’m sure you’ll figure something out.