Crazy Ass Planet

Though posting the odd rambling, I haven’t been commenting much lately or doing a great deal of anything. Why is that? I put it down to the fullness of life. And it’s idiocy.

Weekend: I was stuck with asshole neighbours and their parties. Doors slamming and “whoo-hoo” cries till four in the morning. Little sleep.

Monday: Assuming a role I’m unfamiliar with, uncomfortable with and which I plain just don’t like, I was a pissy condo owner. “Cigarette butts in the courtyard! Broken beer bottles! Garbage on the balconies! Decreased property value! What about my investment?” That sort of thing. Very out of character. But I have idiots living below me.

Weekdays: Way too much work! Meetings coming out the whazoo! Working WAY too late into the evening. Very disgruntled. I hate it when work interferes with real life.

In the meantime … I reconstituted my brain by looking at some old material I had put online. It appears my original blogging goes back as far as August 2000! The oldest post I’ve found so far is from August 19, 2000. And I decided to repost it, just for the hell of it (just as I reposted Cinnamon Cat, a little earlier – that’s from way back in 1997!) It’s interesting (the old post, not Cinammon Cat) because it’s about summer’s end, whereas we’re looking ahead now to summer getting under way.

Anyway, for what it’s worth, almost 6 years old, at a time when I was moving into my condo, here is:

Summer: where’d ya go?

Morning has arrived in our awkward little northern town and I realize the summer is packing for the season’s end and looking to more hospitable southern climes for the long drudge of winter. And I say, as we say every year, “Where’d it go? Where’d it go?”

Yes, I may be a little premature in my nostalgic longing for the tumescent season, but this summer, for me, has been a whirligig of work and domestic activity (the condo) of a degree I’m not use to, and don’t ever care to be. It’s all been writing text for monsterously large Web sites and the hurly burly of moving and the anxieties of owning real estate (of a kind).

This is not my world, people. At least, not until now. It’s made me a bit cross. A bit stressed. A larger asshole than I normally would be.

For example … I stopped mid-stream in my updates to these pages. Where did I go? Down a rabbit hole? Yes. That’s exactly where I went.

Let’s see if I can’t update things. Finally.

The condo update (like anyone cares)

First off … I am out of the Dumpster! It is part of my past now. (insert rousing cheer here). It hung on like a buggering bishop, but it’s finally gone and I am free. You would not believe the crap I threw out. And this was a shock to the system: I saw the sheet I initially signed when I moved in – the sheet assessing the condition of the apartment (aka, the Dumpster). It was dated April 1989!!! I was imprisoned 11 years, 3 months before I finally made a successful break. Call me the Birdman of Alcatraz.

Lessons learned? Never stay anywhere more than 3 years. Although a friend has argued for 5, and she does make her point well. From her e-mail:

I would say 5 is a better number. You need the first year to settle down and call it home. The second year you feel totally comfortable and wouldn’t change a thing. The third year you decide what you hate about the place. The fourth year you begin making plans to change what you hate about the place. The fifth year you say screw it, I’m not going to waste my time changing it. I’ll just sell it and move to someplace better. By the time the fifth year hits The Haven you initially bought officially becomes known as The Dumpster.

(She also speculated about whether the above rules should be applicable to spouses. Not being married, I couldn’t help her. On first blush, it seems a good policy.)

Goatland morning

Speaking of havens, I am in year one of my new haven – the condo, aka Goatland. I am not only living here, most of my “stuff” is here (sans what I ditched). And I’ve received a call telling me the table and chairs I ordered have arrived, so all that remains are the stools I ordered and Goatland will be complete. Well, except for the colourful touches that add that certain je ne sais quoi to every home. (See? I’m already sounding like a home owning ass. Cappuccino anyone? Chardonnay?)

Also … The cable was hooked up this week. Next week? High Speed. Currently I’m doing the 56K thing and it makes me a bit testy (though I can still remember doing 2800 … Can you even imagine that?)

In other words, I am preparing to hunker down and burrow for the long Alberta winter in new, more attractive digs. One close to bars (huzzah!); close to restaurants (huzzah! huzzah!); one with lovely hardwood floors (huzzah! huzzah! huzzah!)

But this is just the thumbnail of the condo story (which really is of no interest to anyone but myself). If this were all the summer had been, it would be a very sad life indeed. Fortunately (he cocks a questioning eyebrow), that is not all it has been about. There has been much more, but that shall have to wait for update #2, which may arrive later this weekend. (But don’t hold your breath. At the rate I’ve been going you won’t see it until at least February.) (Yes, yes … I’m joking. It will be sooner than that.)

You bring the wine.

Anyway … For now, from the attractive accommodations of Goatland,

Toodles!

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