Occasionally I get so tired, I feel ill. And that’s what happened on Sunday. I don’t know why, because I slept at least nine hours on Saturday night, but I was fatigued almost to the point of pukin’ on Sunday. It’s some kind of cumulative thing that doesn’t necessarily have a lot to do with just the previous day.
So, when the night finally (finally!) ended, I went home and climbed atop the dormancy platform. And the next morning I apparently hit the snooze button so many times, the clock eventually washed its hands (get it?) of the whole situation.
The alarm starts going off at 9:30, and I jerked awake at 12:41 — more than three hours later. Sweet sainted mother of Rembrandt Pussyhorse! I’d planned to write and post an update here, and also take care of a couple of other small tasks, before it was time to leave for work again around 2:00. It threw my entire “morning” into disarray.
And that’s why there was no Monday update. I apologize, but I guess my brain required some additional downtime. And man, I felt fantastic on Monday. It’s crazy how everything can change in just half a day. …Yeah, I’m shaving years off my life working this way, aren’t I?
Toney cut my hair on Sunday morning. It feels ridiculous to even type those words, but they’re true. She bought a set of heavy-duty clippers at Target or someplace, and announced that she was going to start cutting my hair, as well as the boys’ hair, and save us hundreds of dollars per year. Possibly millions.
I was skeptical, highly skeptical, and don’t really view the cost of haircuts as a major expense. But whatever.
On Saturday she cut the older boy’s hair, and it didn’t look too bad. In fact, it looked pretty much like one of the twenty dollar cuts he gets every few weeks. There was no wide strip of naked scalp across the back of his head, and his hair didn’t come to a point like a Dairy Queen sundae, as I’d had it pictured.
So, the next day I let her take a crack at my Jiffy Pop ‘do. And I’d rate it a C+. It doesn’t look horrible, but there’s something… wobbly about it. Certain sections are a little larger than they should be, and it just doesn’t feel right. I can’t see anything terribly wrong with it in the mirror. But something is askew.
I assume she’ll improve with practice, and until then I’ll be walking around with wobbly hair… Stay tuned.
I went to dinner with some big-shots at work last night. I’m not sure why I was invited, and, in true Jeff Kay fashion, spent the whole afternoon trying to come up with some negative doomsday explanation for it all.
But it was a good time (surprisingly enough), and I had expense account New York Strip steak. Is there anything better than expense account steak? I submit that there is not. And it brought back memories of my high-flying record weasel days, when I dined in the finest restaurants of America, on the tabs of major corporations, for no apparent reason. God, I loved that.
Unfortunately, I started to take it for granted, and didn’t fully appreciate my good fortune during the final few years. After it was over, I was left thinking, “Hey, wait a minute. How come no record companies have bought me a fifty dollar steak this month? What the hell, man?!”
And now I’m getting haircuts at home, with Target clippers… <sigh>
I was talking with a guy at work last night, and he told me his brother is driving in from Colorado for Christmas. He grew up here, I’m told, and every time he returns, he fills the trunk of his car with many different varieties of Tastykakes. Like, hundreds of dollars-worth. Heh.
Tastykake, in case you’re unaware, is a regional brand of snack cakes. Sorta like Hostess, but better. And people who grew up on them will fight you in the streets if you have a negative word to say about any of it.
Supposedly this guy takes his trunk-full of snacks back to Colorado, freezes them, and doles them out slowly throughout the year. And when there’s an emergency, family members mail him boxes of the things across the continent.
A woman was standing nearby, and said she has an uncle who buys cases and cases of Middleswarth barbecue chips when he comes home to northeastern Pennsylvania. That’s another regional “delicacy,” which I don’t think I’ve ever tried. I might have to remedy that fact today.
And I’d like to use that as the Question of the Day… Are there any regional products that you hoard when possible, because you now live in a place where they’re not available? Maybe something you liked as a kid, and now you’re in a different city?
If not, what products can you imagine would fall into that category, if you ever moved away from where you currently live? What regional products would you have airlifted to your new home in Alaska, or wherever? Please use the comments link below.
And I’ll see you guys again tomorrow.
Have a great day, boys and girls.