Maytag the Merciless

The above appliance, and its partner in crime, the dryer, have become my life. My life has become an never ending cycle of wash clothes, dry clothes, fold clothes, put away clothes, and repeat ad nausem till the end of time. Not exactly the exciting, wild, life style I had envisioned when I was a younger lad full of piss and vinegar. I feel like the Maytag man's bastard child. He never gets a call to replace these fabulously engineered machines, and I can' t stop using the bastards. My life has become as boring as watching paint dry, well that is not exactly true, at least paint eventually drys. Laundry does not STOP it is merciless (kind of like that guy name Ming). It just keeps coming. I thought about trying to at least slow it down, but I got nothing. I mean what can you do? Buy more clothes? That is a shit plan because they just get dirty as well, and then you are doing MORE laundry. Just throw away your clothes when they get dirty? That seems a little costly. It is a futile task. I feel like Sisyphus pushing that fucking rock up a hill just to watch it go tumbling back down again as soon as it reaches the top. Unless I am sitting here stark naked typing this (and who says I am not) I have dirty clothes that will need to be washed soon. I launder all the clothes I own, the sheets on the bed, the towels, the place mat, everything, but if I am wearing clothes then the cycle is just itching to start again. I just want to make it stop just for a week. That would be fantastic. Of course I could just not do laundry for two weeks or so, but then I would be faced with the dirty clothes hamper giving me those guilt ridden looks as I staggered into the bathroom. Laundry is like a lion on the savanna. All it has to do is wait by the nearest watering hole, and food will come to it. You have to drink/do laundry sometime, and when you do WHAM! there you are washing clothes, drying clothes, folding clothes, and putting clothes away. Thus, the circle of life and laundry is complete.

Mr. Kibbles

It seems I am a plague on the animal kingdom. Yesterday's casualty was poor Mr. Kibbles, a poor cat that no one really wanted. Seems Mr. Kibbles (who was less than 2 years old), just could not ever seem to gain his health. He always had one illness or another, and finally life became more than he could bear. The wasting illness that finished him off has some extremely long, complicated name that really isn't important to the story. The experts told me that when I got Mr. Kibbles that he was a bit sickly, and did not predict a long, and successful life for him. However, I thought that with enough care, and dedication Mr. Kibbles could at least live a few good years. Well, it seems I was a bit too optimistic. The downturn was not pretty to watch, and I may be off of owning pets for life. At least the end was fairly quick and painless, only one small bump on the road to kitty heaven, but it was smoothed over easily enough. The last six months were not pretty to watch, and I had become resigned to sending Mr. Kibbles to kitty heaven. Resignation does not equal acceptance, and a few beers had to be drunk in Mr. Kibbles' honour last evening. Which is perhaps why I woke up feeling like Mr. Kibbles or one of his feline buddies had taken a dump in my mouth.

Time

Time is an extremely funny thing. A lot of philosophers can explain a lot of things ethics, morals, pain, suffering, god, and all that other crap, but have a very difficult time wrapping their minds around the concept of time. What exactly is time? We decided to divide it up into months, days, weeks, years, minutes, seconds, etc etc, but did we really catch time in a bottle? Being awake about 19 hours a day gives you plenty of "time" to ponder questions about time. I have become an expert on knowing when it is 11 minutes past the hour. Any hour, any time of day or night, I am able to sense it. It is actually kind of creepy, and scares me just a little bit. I also can chop time up very well into 9 minute intervals. This is because the alarm clock that I have possessed for almost 20 years has a snooze button that allows for 9 minutes. I am eerily able to wake up before the alarm goes off, and then hit snooze wait 8 minutes and hit snooze again. Of course, the older we get time seems to go by faster. It has something to do with the amount of "time" we have left I think. Those last few grains of sand seem to run out a whole lot quicker than the first few. Time travel is a favourite subjects of authors the world over since H.G. Welles posed that lovely "what if" question in the The Time Machine. Certainly, some us would love to go back in time, and change how we handled certain situations, but usually it would be futile. Going forward in time has its allure as well who wouldn't want to know their and the world's future? We waste so much time that it is silly. We spend a great deal of energy wishing time away. It is ever going to be 5 o'clock so I can go home? Time punishes us all, at least eventually. You can't bargain with time. You might bargain FOR more time, but usually that is pointless as well. Just try to waste one hour someday when you are NOT a home. Leave your house, and think where can I go for an hour? Maybe you have a movie you want to see, maybe you can go to a book store, or a friend's house, but just see if that hour does not seem to drag by ever so slowly. Deadlines are all about time. Something has to be done by a certain time, then time seems to just fly by. It compresses till it seems that minutes are zipping by at the speed of light. Time does funny things to all of us. We set great store by being on time to place, but we smile indulgently at people who would "be late to their own funeral." We have all had experiences in which we leave thinking "man, I wish I had the last 20 minutes of my life back." Even reading this post is, I am sure, killing/wasting someone's time. I know that writing certainly did mine.

Murder Most Foul

I would like to report a crime. At about 7:15 a.m. today, poor Mr. Spider who lived near my bookcases was horribly killed. Initial reports that it was an assassination paid for by several rogues flies have been proven false. However, Mr. or Mrs (not sure which) is just as dead. It all started somewhat harmlessly. I was stumbling my way out of my house after an exciting Fruesday (TM) night with Tidy, and decided that I needed to supplement my 3 hours of sleep with that loveliest of drugs, caffeine. I manage to grab a can of the nectar of the gods (in this case known as Mountain Dew), and after both of my legs agreed on which direction to proceed, off I went on my way to work. However, lack of sleep, or lack of coordination quickly led to tragedy. I had not taken two steps to the door, when whoops the can slips from my loose grasp. WHAM! it lands on the floor and rolls off into the sunrise. I muttered several curse words mainly because my drink would explode now if I opened it, but partly because I would have to bend over to retrieve said can, and in my current condition that could lead to me just toppling over. I managed to retrieve the can without too much difficulty, and proceeded to place it back into my refrigerator. As I was performing this simple task, I looked down and noticed the rather squashed, but completely dead aforementioned, Mr/Mrs. Spider. After checking the vital signs, and determining that Spider was, in fact, not longer with us I burst into uncontrollable laughter. I mean what are the odds? Here the poor bastard of a Spider was walking along minding his/her own business, and BLAM!!!! here comes this very large object (at least to the Spider) whistling out of the sky and you become deceased. I am sure the family of the deceased is presently at home in their grief plotting their revenge. I would like to issue my condolences to any surviving family members (numbering in the thousands, I am sure). It is the equivalent of a person walking down the street and a piano coming out of a window from 20 stories, and killing some (human) bastard. I think that lack of sleep made me giddy, because I laughed so hard I cried, and am still chuckling about it as I write this post. I am even trying this story out on co-workers to see if it is funny or not. I am sure most of them will agree it is funny, but will not find it as hilarious as i did/do. Hopefully when I get home there will not be a group of spiders clutching large, blunt objects in their eight arms ready to exact revenge.

Blank

As required by law and by request, a brief change of subject.

This study/article does not bode well for me. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/7504798.stm Seems that a good night's sleep is the best way to boost memory. That is fantastic. I have been struck by at least 3 instances of serious failures of my short term memory in the last week or so, and now perhaps I know why. Since I average about 3 hours of sleep a night it would seem that I might be in danger of just forgetting my entire life. Not that there is a whole lot worth remembering but, I am being to feel a bit like Guy Pearce in Memento. If this lack of sleep keeps happening I may have to start writing little things down like my address, where I work, and reminders to pay the utility bill. In fact, the major reason that I am writing now is it helps in my struggle to stay awake during the day. I am pretty sure I could fall asleep right here at my desk, but also convinced that it would only last about 12 minutes. Although those would be 12 glorious minutes. Minutes to savour, and look back upon with a sense of accomplishment and joy. Of course, it will all go horribly wrong as soon as I arrive home and attempt to take a nap. Then, of course, I will become alert, awake, and a productive member of the team. On the upside of things it does appear that I sometimes seem to arrive at a place I like to call the "other side of being conscious." It is a happy place where everything starts to make a whole lot more sense, and more things are absolutely hilarious than you would believe possible.

Rood

Dear GI,



Perhaps our problem is based on a lack of communication. It is rather like having a conversation with a non-native speaker. You and I, at least in theory, speak the Queen's English. In spite of your butchering of that language we should be able to communicate with relative ease. That being said, it seems that some of the CC's intentions have sailed gently over your head, like a lazy fly ball over a dazed shortstop's head in your lovely American game of baseball. Your response does strengthen the idea that perhaps rest and relaxation would do you a world of good. The only question now is the length of the time necessary for your recovery. Your "answer" to the round the twist question is not important. The CC has made their determination on that question, and your protestations to the contrary do not matter. Your recent erratic behaviour have raised concerns about your state of mind. These concerns need to be addressed. Your contributions to the Ministry are not in question, and are greatly appreciated by senior management. In fact, it is those contributions that are driving the CC's concerns. We do not wish to lose such a promising member so early in his career. There needs to be a hand to take hold of the scene, someone to make sure you recover your balance. Do not worry about drowning, do not fret about anything but your health. We are sure you will feel we have treated you harshly, but that is not the case. We are acting out of kindness. We are attempting to save you from yourself. We bear you no ill will, and we genuinely hope you recover your senses. You have marvelous potential, and it is our strongest desire to tap that potential for the betterment of the Ministry. If, as you say, you are the most grounded of men, then I trust you will see the great good sense of our proposal. Remember, once a member, always a member.

Gris

Dear Hugo,

I must confess that I find myself shocked at the tone of your letter of reprimand. I never meant to offend the Ministry. My membership in the Ministry is one of the few things I hold dear in my life. I would never wish to put that in jeopardy or to call into question the direction the Ministry is taking. You, and the other members of senior management can rest assured that I have not "taken leave of my senses." I am baffled by that question. How do I answer that question to any one's satisfaction? If I were to say "no" would you really believe me? I expect that most people would hotly deny having gone round the twist. If I were to say "yes" then what would you think? Could you believe me or anything else you have ever heard me say or write? I mean after all I would have just admitted to being mad as a hatter. I leave the question of my sanity for another day. While I appreciate the Central Committee's offer of a "water cure" I would have to regretfully decline. My "people" as it were have a evil tendency to drown around water. It usually does not act as a cure, unless you consider it "curing" being alive. I sincerely hope that was not the way the offer was intended. Believe me when I say that I truly look forward to serving the Ministry for the rest of my life. In fact, I have several ideas that I have been working on that, I believe, will make the Ministry proud. I fully intend to advance my position and standing within the Ministry, and will maintain the required discipline. I have reread the manual to which you referred, and I find that it is vague at best on the matter of publication. A certain amount of publication is allowed in order to keep the Ministry from dying due to lack of new members. Perhaps the tone I used was a bit flip, or perhaps it was misinterpreted (I find that misinterpretation happens quite often with the written word). In fact, I am reminded of certain publications of yours dear Hugo, in your younger days that would have run afoul of your present reading of the manual.
Also, I am no Kamenev or Zinoviev. I am not "naming names" the names I "drop" are well known members. Members whose membership cannot be denied or called into question. I have not, nor shall I, ever use a member's name that would expose them. I consider myself the most grounded of men. I follow the tenets of logic and good sense in most of the matters that I am faced with, and vigorously deny that I am "afflicted" with "flights of fancy." I understand the CC's position, and respect it a great deal. I will be more careful of my conduct in the future, and hope to serve the Ministry well. Once a member always a member.

Gult

Dear GI,

Consider this a warning. Those of us who would count ourselves yours superiors are not pleased with your actions. The brass foolishness displayed in your posts about success(es), and say "bah fuck 'em" to the Ministry, boggles the imagination. We are inclined to posit that perhaps you have taken leave of your senses, and may need to "take the water cure" at one of our sanatoriums. Rest assured you will be treated well, and allowed the time to recover your mental balance. Being a junior member of our association, we are inclined to overlook your blatant violation of our policy in this matter. Fear not, we will provide the necessary excuses to your friends, neighbors, family, and employers to explain your absence. If possible we would like the course of treatment to begin as soon as possible. We had hoped that you understood (it is clearly written in the manual) that we do not like to have the inner working of the Ministry exposed to the light of day. We may be a "all is forgiven group" (your words NOT ours), but we are also a private group. Naming names like some repentant Communist at a show trial in the 1930's will NOT endear you to senior management. We do not begrudge your moments of "blazing happiness", in fact, we encourage you in its pursuit. However, we cannot allow one of our members, drunk on his own sense of power to compare the Ministry to a group of clowns. Everyone makes mistakes, dear boy, just make sure that this one, like these things have a tendency to do, does not end in tears. A period of rest and calm reflection will do you a world of good, and allow you the time to develop a deeper apprecation of the Ministry. We will attempt to help you control the wild flights of fancy which seem to afflict you. Remember once a member always a member.

Success

I just experienced an absolutely marvelous personal success, and goddamnit I am going to crow just a bit about it. I have achieved the opposite of the Joe Purdy song, and have seemed to managed to "Get it Right Today". Stick with me this is uncharted territory your dear GI being actually "happy" if only fleetingly. Hey, I know it won't last, I know that somewhere in this sea of success there is a Scylla and a Charybdis just waiting for me to slip up. However, I can say with some conviction that I really don't care. What is a little whirlpool or a six headed sea monster when you are high on the glory of actually managing to get something right for a change? Sure I might sustain a few bruises on the trip, but the destination is worth it. Who knows this happiness thing might be contagious. Next thing you know you are giggling for the sure joy of it. Plus the added bonus of having your friends look at you like you are as mad as a March hare wondering who you are and what you have done with the real GI. That itself is worth a few laughs. After all, these are my friends it is good to boggle their imagination every once in a while. Perhaps they will join the giggle loop, and after a few pints everyone is grinning like a Cheshire cat. Truth be told, this success is worth a few grins, and a few pints. It is a work of stunning brilliance, and quite beyond my normal abilities. Perhaps, god does smile on fools and children. I feel like I have managed to cure cancer, and am simply waiting for the mere mortals around me to check the math, and be sufficiently awed. Nobel laureate attached to my name has a lovely ring to it. My paterfamilias would be so proud. Plus, depending on which Nobel category I win, I would get a free trip to Oslo or Stockholm. If I am not careful the Ministry will revoke my membership. Bah! fuck 'em. They are a collection of clowns that would make any circus proud. After all, one success does not a career make, and I am sure in a little while I would be welcomed back to the fold. They are a "all is forgiven just come back" group. Besides they are quite familiar with the unrestrained joy of a success of such breathless magnitude (at least before it all goes horribly, horribly wrong) so I doubt they will begrudge me a few moments of blazing happiness.

Here comes the apology part, dear reader, I had at the beginning of this rambling post every intention of revealing exactly what this success consisted of. Upon further reflection, I have decided not to. Going on the theory that maybe revealing it may ruin the whole damn thing, I figure that silence on the details of the cause of this joy is, in fact, golden. Besides, to reveal it might make it somewhat less glorious. Sometimes the less we know the better.