It’s 08:49 and I’ve been awake nearly four hours already.
Woke shortly before 05:00 in an adrenaline rush, my reaction to a horrifically loud CRASH sound somewhere outside my bedroom window. I am reasonably certain the sound was real because my two cats were practically clinging to the ceiling, and I don’t think that was just because I jolted nearly out of bed in my own reacting to the noise.
I crawled out of bed and peered out the window. There were two people standing by the mailboxes, however, facing northwest and talking and pointing in the general direction of Everett and Paine Field, where Boeing does some test flights and whatnot. I wondered if there had been a plane crash there. But I saw no sign of smoke, fire, or other activity that would otherwise indicate the source of the sound.
But no more noise or signs of danger, and I was wide adrenalized awake, so I decided I’d get up to face the day. And at that moment, facing the day meant a trip to the kitchen to get the coffee started. Also I needed to synchronize and charge my PDA and my laptop was in the living room.
The PDA cradled, charging, and happily talking to the laptop, I ground the coffee and set up the coffee maker and stood there in a mild catatonic state watching as the fresh brew dripped into the carafe. It was mesmerizing, largely because I was coming off the adrenaline high and I needed something to replace it. I had carefully measured water into the coffee maker’s reservoir so I would have two cups brewed, though I used my large earthenware handleless mugs so in reality I made six cups according to the carafe’s scale. As soon as the brewed coffee reached the 4-cup mark, I yanked the carafe out to fill my mug and go upstairs to the shower, which was itself uneventful except that I broke the stall floor again.
Some weeks back I broke the stall floor the first time when I was shaving. I shave in the shower so I keep the shaving-cream can atop the stall door frame, and one morning I bobbled the can when I was putting it up after applying shaving lather to my face. The can fell to the floor and landed edge-wise and, I think because it was a new can and thus heavier, it left a crack in the floor. And a squishy spot under the floor, I think because a little water got under there and into whatever material fills the space behind the stall floor surface but above the upstairs-floor framing.
I had called the apartment manager and requested a service appointment to have the crack repaired, the better to prevent evile structural damage from water seeping through the crack and rotting away at the wood structure of the building. It wouldn’t do to be in the shower one morning and have the whole thing collapse through the floor into the kitchen and possibly through to the garage, Inspector Clouseau-style. So they dispatched a service minion who repaired the crack with some sort of caulk or whatever, exactly how I would have done it, and all was well.
Until this morning when I bobbled the shampoo bottle while I was trying (eyes closed) to place it back atop the wire rack, one of those hangs-over-the-shower-pipe numbers, and in falling to the floor and bouncing comically all over the place, it opened the crack again.
I didn’t realize until that moment that I had been standing directly over the drain in the center of the stall, my feet blocking the flow of water out of the shower. There was perhaps an inch of water in the stall at that moment. With the reopening of the crack much of that water spilled into the hidden structure of my house, leading me to make another service appointment request by voice mail within a minute or two of stepping out of the shower.
I think maybe I should use the tub/shower in the guest bathroom from now on, because it isn’t plastic and I think I would have more trouble breaking it when I drop things like I do all the damned time.
So I got dressed and went back downstairs and set up HandBrake to encode a couple of DVDs into smaller files for my upcoming weekend trip to Denver—better battery life if the DVD drive isn’t spinning all the time, you see, and the laptop can chew on that all day while I’m at work—and to make breakfast. Fired up the stove and made scrambled eggs with a little garlic and some Cheddar and jack cheese, delish, but I really wanted some bacon. Odd, because I’m much more partial to link sausage, but today bacon was the big craving.
And I had forgotten about my other mug of coffee. So I decided I would take it to work.
That’s when I remembered I lost my travel mug a couple months back when I took it to work, rinsed it out after use and left it in the drying rack in the break room, and never saw it again. So I had to figure out an alternative and I struck on using a 0.5L Diet Coke bottle I keep around for sippin’ water.
I drove to work with a Diet Coke bottle filled with a light brown and hotter-than-hell liquid, my coffee with a bit of flavoured creamer added. Got a couple weird looks from fellow commuters, I think mostly because when I picked up the bottle to take a sip, I did the “ouch hot yow” Dance of the Fingers bit, shifting my grip repeatedly and desperately so I wouldn’t burn myself.
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I am ready for this day to be over already.