Life Is Such A Sweet Insanity.

Today has been a lazy day. I worked on my Blue Marvel fan film script a little bit. Earl and I took did some test taping out in the back lawn to see how bad the background noise would be picked up on the videotape. Of course, that’s when the neighbor decided to fire up the lawnmower. I definitely need to get the wireless mic going.

Other than that work kept me a little busy but mostly it was all about relaxation today. I’m taking tomorrow off with comp time to do some road research for my roadgeek web site so I’m kicked back a little bit and not sweating life at all.

Sometimes a quiet weekend is a good thing.

Today I told my supervisor that I’m taking Monday off. I’ve accumulated enough comp time this week for a little R and R and because I want to be a good team player, I’m taking Monday off so that it doesn’t conflict with anyone else’s plans.

I wonder if he was amused by my proclamation.

I am constantly trying to read people, analyze situations and basically get a grip on the reality around me. At first I read a “sigh” when I told him I wanted Monday off, a quick “fsck” and then I finally got an o.k. So I went with it. It should be interesting in that I’ll be on-call until Monday at 8 a.m. Since I won’t be at work at freedom time, I hope I am still able to resist the urge to chuck my pager into the canal.

My pager and I have a love/hate relationship. I love it when it’s off, I hate it when it’s complaining about something. We’ve become so connected that I almost always reach for it before it even goes off, like some sort of weird psychic vibe is telling me that it’s time to be SuperTech. Earl is always asking me as I reach for the pager before it beeps, “How did you do that?” “It’s a gift.”, I usually reply. I can just see myself on “Who Wants To Be A Superhero?”. “Uh, what’s your superpower?” “I’m able to detect Motorola pagers before they ding.”

Thrilling. Watch out Lex Luthor, I’m going to intercept your pages from your henchmen, insert triumphant laugh here. Wonder Woman will end up hating me because she’ll have to lug me around in the invisible jet because I can’t fly on my own. I’ll have to share a seat with Aquaman (he can’t fly either)which could be a bummer since I don’t want his slimy, seaweedy hands on my knee, I don’t care how big his shoal is.

So what to do on Monday. I think I’ll sleep in and then do some road geeking for the website. With the pager off.

When did we, the American People, stop expecting perfection and start accepting “o.k.” when it comes to things? My goodness, these days if you go to Wal*Mart (Always White Trash, Always), you’re grateful if a) the cashier doesn’t slap you across the face for interrupting her time at her station let alone actually thanking you for your patronage and b) you’re happy that whatever you bought actually works/is edible/doesn’t blow up. We’ve come to accept that the newest version of Windows any expensive computer program won’t be perfect, but maybe the next version will be for twice the price. We’re absolutely giddy that the washing machine we bought lasted five years, when our parents and grandparents expected the same sort of purchase to last twenty years!

Why do we put up with this?

Why don’t we care anymore?

Why is it acceptable to be mediocre these days? Why don’t people expect perfection or at least an attempt in that direction?

I’m finding this quite maddening.

This morning I jumped out of bed a half hour earlier than usual and went for a two mile walk. Not a big deal to many, but for me to jump out of bed thirty minutes earlier than my usual time is quite an accomplishment.

I’ve been walking every morning this week before heading to work. I wonder if the extra burst of exercise is responsible for the run of good days I’ve been having. Hmmm, something to ponder.

Last night, Earl approached me with a task that needed to be done. It’s something that I absolutely dread because it strikes terror right to the bottom of my soul, but what has to be done has to be done, is what he tells me, so I suck it up and go into the computer room and ready myself for 30 minutes of sweat, worry and nerves.

It was time to balance the checkbook.

Earl and I have a really good way of working our finances. Everything we earn gets dumped into accounts that we have equal access to. Our philosophy is that we both contribute 100% of our income to kitty; there is no “mine” nor “his”. Everything is “ours”. And yes, that includes the Acura.

It’s a really good system that I highly recommend for everyone in a committed relationship, except when it comes to balancing the books.

You see, in today’s world of instant accessibility through the marvels of modern technology, it’s really easy to buy things. Bright shiny things. Things that beep. Things that remind you of your childhood. Things that bring you a smile.

Back when ebay was a reasonable place to do make a purchase I bought lots of stuff there. I’d always neglect to write the transaction down, since Earl is the only one with access to our financial records (thank God), and then checkbook balancing time would come along and I’d have to explain a dozen or so transactions to PayPal that weren’t recorded. I’m pretty much over the whole ebay thing these days, plus I strive to make sure I print out receipts if I spend money so that he can record it. But I still get all twitchy and nervous when he announces he needs help balancing Quicken.

So, I yell out an amount and he clicks a little checkmark next to it in the electronic register.

“$12.95”!

“For whom?”, he asks.

“Uh, um, put PayPal.”, as it’s really some foreign company in a different hemisphere. Then he asks me the zinger.

“What category?”

I turn red and say “porn”. Being a smartass, he’ll usually say something like “twink, kink or bear?”

So I respond with something equally fun like “two out of three ain’t bad”. Once in a while, I’ll just say “other” which causes him to cock an eyebrow and then turn back to the computer. “Did you get to keep the download or is there a time limit on it.”

“I have 17 more days of unmitigated enjoyment.”

And it goes on and on until the numbers match up and Quicken makes a little ka-ching noise. He then drops the Purchase Order Threat on me in which I will have to submit a purchase requisition to him, in triplicate and he’ll sign it with approval if I’m deemed worthy.

Hey, if it gets me something shiny or better yet, a “two out of three”, I’m game for anything.