Friday, October 24, 2014

Sleep, perchance to snore.

Awoke this morning from my third consecutive night of at least eight hours of sleep. It’s my bold experiment to see (1) how many days in a row I can get the recommended full allotment of shut-eye and (2) if I notice any physical or mental benefits from consistently going to sleep before my teenaged son is even halfway through his algebra homework. 

With a new biz pitch starting up next week and a 10:30pm hockey game on the slate for next Wednesday, the streak promises to last about as long as did the bag of candy Nipplethorp bought for Halloween three days ago. But I do love a lost cause, and given that the recent research about sleep debt reduction suggests I won’t be caught up on my sleep until right around the time my mortgage gets paid off in 2043, this one might rank right up there with my devotion to the Minnesota Vikings.

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Creepy way to end the day.

I felt like I was being watched this evening as I struggled to open my handle-less car door in the work parking lot. I glanced over my shoulder to find a murder of crows eyeing me with their beady, soulless eyes—not one of them appearing to cut me any slack for having held countless field funerals for fallen relatives of theirs during my childhood days as an aspiring priest.

It was positively Hitchcockian. A quick Google search suggests that crows are a spirit animal, and that their choosing of me indicates their support for the development of my powers of sight, transformation and connection with life’s magic. But my heart tells me they were just eyeing the Camry for target practice.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Test drive.

My present run of dependable Camrys aside, I do have a history of driving odd-looking cars. 

It started with the ridiculous but incredibly roomy Mercury Marquis my sister won in a raffle back in college...

Then there was the Saab 900...

Followed by my crowning achievement in ugly élan: the inimitable Merkue XR4Ti...

So why not take a closer look at the equally quirky/ugly Ford C-Max? True, my own unscientific research suggests that the C-Max is a huge hit with soccer moms, retirees and practical Berkeley types, but when a co-worker offered to let me try out his very own C-Max, I jumped at the chance. 

Granted, any car less than five years old with fully functioning door handles is going to be a huge improvement for me, but I liked it. Yes, it appears to have the turning radius of an aircraft carrier and there is a distinct learning curve with the brakes and the name provokes images of a large gauge catheter—but all that pales in comparison to the hard truth that it is not a champagne-colored 1997 Camry with seats that can no longer be adjusted. 

Oh, and the early marketing for the car was pretty awesome, too. 

Monday, October 20, 2014

Note to self...

When sporting a dress shirt for an important business meeting, do not wait until you have driven two hours to the client before trying it on for the first time. 

In my defense, I had already purchased the same Size L shirt and been delighted with the fit, so I wasn’t completely flying blind. But what I understand now is that those Size Ls come in different sleeve lengths, and that it takes strong bifocals to actually see those lengths written on the tag underneath the much-larger-to-the-naked-eye “L.” 

The moral of this story: Don't buy your wardrobe from a giant clothing bin at Costco.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Dumb and dumber.

Walking out to the car this afternoon, my life companion made a disparaging comment about her sunglasses and their apparent inability to cut down on the glare. When I pointed out that part of the problem could have been the fact that her right lens was missing, she gave me one of those looks that advised me to drop the subject (and certainly not blog about it). Here is what that look looks like:

In an effort to pre-empt her reaction, I shall also post my attempt to fit an XL ski helmet on my head:

There, Nipplethorp. we’re even.