***What do you mean I have to work at life?***

Words
Our discussion group's book for May is Sellevision by Augusten Burroughs. GAC read a couple of passages on Tuesday; the book sounds hilarious.

Weights
Well, no workouts at the gym until I've fully recovered from this cold. That doesn't stop me, though, from preparing the house for the contractors (see below).


Whatever
Yesterday R. and I spent the evening preparing the first floor to be ripped out next week. We boxed tons of books and other miscellaneous items. I calculated we must have used at least seventy boxes, easy. What's more remarkable is what shape we were in while working: I'm fighting a cold and R. was fighting to stay awake after being on-call Tuesday night/Wednesday morning.

The packing brought a sense of deja vu. Over seven years ago, in August(?) we were up all night packing our stuff for the movers. I remember looking at all those boxes and sighing inward. Next time, I promised, I will start far earlier in packing.

Obviously I didn't keep such promises when we were packing last night. I knew about this day for the past couple of months but barely did anything. Thus, I barely bitched about how unfair (as usual) the universe was to us.

Laziness. Stagnation. Procrastination. Any of these words describe my reasons for delay. (None apply to R., who puts in ten hour days and deals with up to four hours of traffic daily plus on-call.) Those words apply to a lot of my endevours.

In many ways, the modern world--especially in First World nations--make it so easy to relax. Food is plentiful and cheap and a great body is but a surgeon's throw away. (And credit cards and their monthly plans ease payment.) Why join your friends when you can talk on the phone with them or use webcams. I remember reading an article on-line that, for the First World, you make time to exercise and get in shape, not work out in the course of a day as part of your regular regimen of food gathering, walking, etc. Even the process of renting a movie requires no more than a pressing a few buttons (for cable) or waiting patiently for a DVD via snail mail.

Maslow's hierarchy of needs illustrated the order which people pursue to satisfy their needs. It's interesting that few folks ever past the social needs. Personally, I believe it's because the two last rungs (esteem and self-actualization) cannot be achieved from outside oneself. You can't buy self-acceptance despite the number of psychologists out there.

I've read plenty of literature about long-term planning and have applied some of them with various degrees of success. All, though, roughly point out that you have to be pro-active to do the specific tasks to achieve your goals. And that requires you have to move.

Ugh. Too much thought. Need to go lie down now. Need to wait for the Muse to inspire me....

Image found on the Internet and all rights belong to their owners.

It's just another thorough Tuesday, whoa, oh....

Words
My reading group and I discussed Biceps last night. I'll post a full review later but basically we found the book light and mildly entertaining...once. The characters were two-dimensional, stereotypical, and the main character was way too passive, not even solving the mystery. Grrr.


Weights
NOTE to self: Watch out for steam rooms and, when at the gym, don't touch your face with your hands until thoroughly scrubbed.

Whatever
Thank the gods (or whatever nastily humoured beings run/manifest/burped the multi-verse) my current job is--relatively--non-stressful. Still I didn't put in overtime as my boss had requested last week. I fell into a coma (i.e., deep sleep) for a couple of hours after getting safely home. Ran a couple of errands before joining my friends to discuss Biceps. Both were quite surprised to see me at 1930. (I usually show up around 2100.) Told them I was sick, had to run errands, and continue to pack. They understood and quickly launched into discussion.

Afterwards I checked out a couple of B&Ns for some books R. had requested. No luck, I returned home. I snacked while returning some calls to family and friends. Dad's definitely improving, healthwise. He asked me to thank R. for the call on Sunday. My sister JAC told me she and her family will be going on vacation out of state soon. My final call was with my friend JE who gave me the latest lowdown on his life (e.g., hitting the gym more, "breakup" with a liar, etc.) Afterwards I packed a few items before retreating to bed.

Weekend Words

Words
Finished Biceps of Death for my reading group. And I feel like death warmed over (see below). Well, there goes the reading group.

Weights
I have a cold.

I should have known that, when I woke up Monday morning with a sore throat, that I was sick. I thought it was the cold air. (We forgot to set the A/C the prior night.) But when the soreness persisted throughout the day, I knew I was in trouble.

Talk about bad timing (see below). The sinus probs and the coughs started last night. But what really irritates me is that I trace the source to the gym, the bastion of health and (for me) sanctuary from the high-pressure modern world.

Whatever
Work's dominating R.'s life at the moment. On-call last weekend and suddenly pulled to do an all-nighter tonight into Wednesday morning.

Similar circumstances for me. My boss gave me a fairly extensive assignment last Thursday and authorized overtime if need be. Normally I wouldn't mind except that we're prepping up for the next phase of remodeling: the downstairs flooring. I spent much of the weekend boxing books and stuff in preparation to move them upstairs. Well, there's still plenty to be done before our contractor and his staff move the heavy furniture into the garage. R. and I planned to spend yesterday, today, Wednesday, and Thursday, plans that got blindsided by our respective workplaces.

But events didn't lighten up. Adding to the increased workload is the fact that I'm manifesting a cold (see above). Lovely. If I needed further proof that the universe is out to kill humanity, this is it. (Well, actually, Barney was the last straw....)

*Well, just go*

Whatever

Image found on the Internet and all rights belong to the owners.

You know how people seem to suddenly crowd the checkout line at the grocery store? One minute the three or five or seven checkouts are as empty as downtown Los Angeles on a Sunday afternoon, then the next you have food-laden carts jockeying for position as the morning commute to said downtown. On Monday.

That analog recently came to mind for a more grimmer purpose: death. Or at least serious illness. First were all the musicians and actors and writers. Then the Terri Shiavo case. The Pope followed.

Now my parents are joining the act. No, they're quite alive. However, dad's been feeling his age (compounding with mom ignoring her age. Note to mother: despite the fact that you weigh less than the average American female teen now doesn't mean you have the strength, flexibility, and stamina to actually dance all night like one. Especially when you bring dear old dad into the picture.)

I received a call from the parental figures. First, mom calls wanting to talk to R. When I explain the on-call schedule, she goes into length about my dad's symptoms and her diagnosis. (She's a former ped's nurse.) She then hands me to dad. I ask how he feels which he replies in short remarks before hanging up. I contact R. who gives advice: basically, call their primary physician who's on-call staff will speak and advise my dad. I call mom who says they'll consider it.

I then get a second call. The parents went to the ER and confirmed that he's just suffering the side-effects of the meds. Now reassured, they say they'll rest.

I get another call the next day. Mom wants to speak with R. who is still on-call and not available. (Many hospitals ban cell phone use.) Dad's still suffering some of the side-effects even though he's not taking the meds. With further probing, I realize the med giving prob was to help his cold. Now without it, he's suffering a cold. I point this out to mom who promptly gives me to dad who politely listens and hangs up (politely.) I haven't heard from them but I suspect I'll be hearing about their second trip to the ER tomorrow.

Why did they call, especially after I relayed R.'s advice? More importantly, why involve me when they can take care of themselves? Mom's a nurse: she knows all the proper procedures. R. says it's the fear of death, that the older one gets the longer the paranoia of their illness being their last. All the news has basically heightened it.

Sigh. I love my parents. There are situ's like this, though, I wonder if I'm the parent and they're the kids.

In a related topic, I use my scythe as the Grim Reaper of Words, Weights, Whatever (WWW) and culled a goodly number of blogs (see right.) I already stopped posting at my other two blogs and transferred my regular reads from them to WWW. I wanted to give more attention to those who not only regularly post (for me, at least once a week) but who make the time and effort to read my blog. A little bit of thanks in a thanksless world.

And on that note, back to remodeling my house. Pics to be developed this week!