a day in the life

23 January 2003

5:25 AM, MST: The alarm goes off. Cursing in my sleep, I stumble across the room and hit snooze.

5:34 AM: The alarm goes off. Cursing in my sleep, I stumble across the room and hit snooze.

5:43 AM: The alarm goes off. Cursing in my sleep, I stumble across the room and hit snooze, this time barking my shins on the dog crate on the way back.

5:52 AM: The alarm goes off. I pretend not to hear it. Cursing in her sleep, Cynthia stumbles across the room and hits snooze. Repeat four more times.

6:25 AM: I roll over and squint blearily at the clock. I curse myself awake when I realize we should have been up an hour ago. I roll over, fall out of bed onto the floor, and pull the covers down with me, prompting sleepy whining from Cynthia about being cold.

6:27 AM: Roommate arrives home from work and lets himself into the house, thus prompting Corky to instantly awake and go fucking apeshit barking. She never learns that he's not a burglar. Cynthia jerks awake and throws whatever she can get her hands on at the dog's crate.

6:30 AM: Shower, but no time to wash my hair. Dammit. I run my hands through my hair a couple of times and hope I can convince people I'm going for the slick look.

6:45 AM: I go fling my wet towel at Cynthia, who is still asleep, and do a nekkid jig to wake her up. Frightened by my rolls of fish-white fat, she falls off the other side of the bed and crawls to the bathroom to get away from the *jubbety jubbety jubbety* sound of my belly hitting me in the face.

7:10 AM: I'm finally dressed and almost semi-awake. Seeing this, Solaris, Jack the Cat Planet and Corky immediately spring off the couch and into action: the two cats do figure-eights around my legs, one on each ankle, wailing in perfect dissonance, and the dog activates her spring-loaded back legs to jump up and down continuously. It's possible they want a little snackie of some kind. I jeer at the cats and taunt them with, "We're out of kitty food... guess you'll have to go hungry this morning! Ha ha ha ha!"

7:10:30 AM: I pry both cats off my head and neck and fling them outdoors. Solaris starts hacking through the door. I throw slop into their bowls and shove them outside.

7:30 AM: We finally leave the house, 45 minutes late. I stop and get a tank of gas. $17.64 later, I get back in the car. Cynthia sniffs the air delicately. "Is that you that smells like gasoline?"

7:32 AM: We inch onto the interstate with Cynthia's window cranked down to disperse the fumes. I regret taking off my peacoat.

7:47 AM: We have moved approximately 17 inches. While icicles form on the tip of my nose, I wonder aloud what the hell is going on.

8:03 AM: We crawl a whole three feet before I see the highway sign flashing "ACCIDENT AHEAD, SUGGEST ALTERNATE ROUTE". Oy. Mired in the middle lane of three lanes of bumper-to-bumper traffic, I put the truck on cruise control and take a nap.

8:16 AM: Four miles from the house, we finally reach the HOV lanes. "Yay!" I shout with glee. "Now we can get somewhere!"


8:18 AM: Merge from 5mph traffic on the interstate to 10mph traffic in the HOV lanes.

8:21 AM: Get up to 25mph. Wooo! Cynthia white-knuckles the dashboard from the excitement of it all.

8:27 AM: Finally emerge from the HOV lanes onto a pristine highway practically devoid of traffic. I punch my little truck up to 75 to make up for lost time. I am being passed on all sides by pissed-off yuppies who are calling their offices to tell the boss why they're going to be late.

8:34 AM: Finally arrive at Cynthia's office. She jumps out the window as I swerve by her office building and waves to my receding form tearing off in a cloud of smog.

8:54 AM: I arrive at work and sneak up to my office. Did I mention I was supposed to be in at 8:00? Unfortunately we have no back entrance, so I have to pretend I was in the bathroom the whole time with a baaaad case of the trots. I explain away the coat and my frost-rimed eyelashes with, "They have the A/C on in the womens' room. No, I don't know why either..."

9:00 AM: I pop my morning Dexedrine and wash it down with a Diet Coke. Yowza! I am now officially awake.

9:01 AM: I put my New Year's resolution to the side and go in search of breakfast. A thorough rummaging produces only a single, stale apple Danish. I regard it forlornly, then nuke it on high and macerate my way through it in under 30 seconds. I burn my tongue in the process, but at least my stomach is no longer sticking to my backbone.

9:02 - 9:37 AM: I surf around my journal links while pretending to work. I'm so clever; the boss will never realize that instead of working tickets on the help desk Web site, I'm actually reading about psychotic beasts instead.

9:38 AM: I do the work thing. God, I'm bored.

10:53 AM: I fall asleep at my desk.

10:55 AM: I am awakened with a start when my mp3 mix shuffles through and lands on "Dance of the Cucumber."

10:56 AM - 1:03 PM: Work, work, work.

1:03 - 2:16 PM: Lunch.

2:17 - 2:54 PM: Surf, surf, surf. Is it time to go home yet?

2:55 - 3:03 PM: Half-hearted attempt at looking busy.

3:04 - 3:20 PM: ADD kicks in and I go on a random Google bunny trail, the details of which I no longer remember.

3:21 - 5:40 PM: ADD kicks in the other way and I get a hyperfocus window. I get something done for the first time all day. Woo! I'm groovin'!

5:41 PM: Suddenly remember I was supposed to call the wife this morning. Oops.

6:27 PM, MST: I drag my ass away from my desk and slog downstairs to my truck. I play "Dodge the Orange Barrels" down to Glendale and pick up my lovely wife, whom I have to collect with a mop and bucket, because she is collapsed in a puddle on the sidewalk outside her office. She is just that tired. We go home.

7:13 PM: Cats launch themselves at our heads the minute we open the door, while Corky spins herself in circles, drools, and wets herself, she's so excited to see us. I fling the cats outside -- again -- and throw their food after them -- again.

7:15 PM: We try to decide what I'm going to fix for supper. Ha. I search my messenger bag for my brain, but alas, it's not there. I know I didn't have it at work, so now I'm worried. I walk in circles and mumble to myself about chicken (tonight's supper). After ten minutes of this, Cynthia takes pity on me, takes my hand and gently leads me to the couch, where she flips through a cookbook for approximately 7 seconds before coming up with a wonderful use for chicken, asparagus and two metric tons of butter.

7:36 PM: I take my ass to the store and set a personal record by running through Albertson's, flinging groceries into my cart, swerving through checkout and throwing bills at the cashier, and heaving everything into my truck in under ten minutes. w00p. I rule.

7:47 PM: Cynthia is a blur in the kitchen, moving with blinding speed and efficiency, preparing a meal for four in no time whatsoever. I sit at the counter and stare at asparagus.

7:49 - 7:54 PM: I snap the ends off the asparagus.

7:55 - 8:03 PM: Cynthia hands me the ingredients for a hollandaise sauce and puts my index finger on the first line of the recipe. I start cracking eggs. ADD kicks in and Cynthia takes the yolks away from me, where I am happily dabbling my fingers in the whites and painting the walls, and mixes the yolks with some lemon juice. She shows me the tri-color pepper and I say, "Ooh! Pepper pretty!"

8:04 PM: Cynthia takes the pepper away, dumps the blackened, congealed concoction, and re-does the egg/lemon juice emulsion.

8:07 PM: Hollandaise sauce is done with no further damage. Woo hoo!

8:08 - 9:03 PM: Cynthia fixes the rest of the meal while I sit somewhere where I can't hurt myself with sharp objects.

9:04 - 9:29 PM: Our Fabulous Fag Friend Mark calls. He and I engage in high drama and squeal like a couple of little girls. I am his devoted fag hag; it is imperative that we bond like this. Cynthia re-warms supper for the fourth time and finally tells me to get off the phone and eat, which I do.

9:30 - 9:45 PM: I inhale my food at a speed that would impress a stunt man. Cynthia looks impressed and a little fearful at my enthusiasm. I think she's hoping I don't perform in bed like I do at the table. I finish, belch, and take my scraped-clean plate to the kitchen. Cynthia follows me in so she can keep talking to me while I'm loading the dishwasher. I am eyeing the leftover hollandaise sauce. It's such a shame to let it go to waste...

9:46 PM: Cynthia is incoherent with rage and is spluttering at Solaris to get the fuck off the goddamn dining room table, already, for Christ's sake you stupid fecking piece of poopoo head frazzle garkin--

9:47 PM: Chuckling and mentally congratulating Solaris on a job well done -- he'll get extra kibble tomorrow -- I grab a spoon and start eating the leftover hollandaise sauce right from the bowl. Mmmm. Two metric tons of butter, lemon juice, egg yolks and tarragon are mighty tasty.

9:48 PM: Busted! Dammit. Cynthia takes the hollandaise away, scolds me but good, and sends me to my room.

9:49 PM: Net surfing. Ahhh, the joys of slacking...

10:37 PM: Cynthia starts playing "Crazy Taxi".

10:37:23 PM: I start grinding my teeth at the fifth repetition of the Wolfman Jack-soundalike shouting, "YOU HAVE FIVE CRAZY MINUTES!@#!"

10:38 PM: I write this entry.

11:16 PM: Sleepiness suddenly hits me like a piano dropped from the sixth floor balcony. I wonder why, then realize I had water for supper instead of a sugary caffeinated beverage. I make a note to correct that oversight in future.

11:17 PM: Toddle off to bed, where Cynthia is watching something incredibly boring on TV. Fling both cats off the bed and put Corky in her crate for the evening, where she turns around three times before dropping on her haunches, snuffling at her privates with great enthusiasm, and rolling over on her back to fall asleep.

11:19 PM: Solaris jumps back up on the bed and lies down in his usual spot, covering a third of the available space. Since I am whipped, I squeeze in between him and Cynthia and apologize to him for putting my elbow down on his tail. Cynthia and I kiss good night and snuggle up for a long winter's nap, at least until 5:25 AM tomorrow.

11:19:47 PM: Cynthia is asleep.

11:21 PM: Cynthia starts snoring.

11:37 PM: I try stifling Cynthia with a pillow, but am thwarted by the power of her nasal passages. Ah well, I love her anyway.

Midnight: Drowse off with Solaris's tail flicking in my face and Cynthia in my ear. I fall asleep contentedly and dream of hollandaise sauce and my cute Japanese wife.

Ahhh. I'm home.