atomic_fungus (atomic_fungus) wrote,

#4964: Now it's cold

We get a few days' worth of indian summer, and then it gets cold outside. Welcome to November.

Took the Jeep a while to warm up, but by the time I'd been driving home for about 15 minutes or so, it was pleasant inside the cabin, and halfway home it was toasty warm. I'm hoping I won't have to flush the cooling system this year.

Brakes are fully bedded in now. Can't beat that.

* * *

Today was my Tuesday; Saturday is my Wednesday. That's very nice.

* * *

I'm starting to get my creative energy back.

Many moons ago, in the Cretacious Era, a then-friend of mine told me about the titles of some stories he wrote when he was first learning how to write. One title occurred to me not long ago, and I began thinking seriously about doing something with it.

The title of the story was Vlodstein, the African Hero. "Doesn't he," my friend asked parenthetically, "have a convincing African name?"

...but lately I've been thinking about a Victorian era explorer named J. Heironymous Vlodstein, a great white hunter and explorer extraordinaire, having various bold adventures. I further imagined an arch nemesis for the African hero, but I've sadly forgotten what it was--something heavily German, though, because there's no match for a bad guy mit ein pickelhaube.

In reality, there probably isn't much I can do with this. Though it's just possible that if I let this idea be, and ferment, someday I might come up with something that's worth jotting down.

That'll have to do.

* * *

Fred Reed talks about how easy it is to teach a kid to read if you care enough to do it. My parents used that technique on me, and I didn't even realize I was able to read until someone pointed it out to me. It was free time, I was sitting in the little library nook in kindergarten, so absorbed in the book I was reading that I didn't hear the teacher calling us back to our desks until she came and got me. I was five.

I still can't shake the feeling that my evil kindergarten teacher was pissed off that I could read.

* * *

Having a hankering to listen to a few tracks from Kansas' "Monolith", and not wanting to disturb my wife (who must get up at 7 on weekends) I dug out the old portable CD player I bought for about $30 back in 2000 or 2001. To my (pleased) surprise I was able to toss a couple of AA batteries into it and it still works. The buttons are a bit flaky, but it works, and it sounds fantastic with the Skull Candy Ink'd earbuds I've had since...uh...2009?

...unlike the Rio MP3 CD player that cost much more than $30. That thing doesn't work, of course, and I'm not sure why; I've kept meaning to take it apart and see if reassembly corrects whatever issues it has, but like just about everything else that's not an immediate priority I haven't gotten around to it.

These earbuds are a freakin' scam, though. They used to charge $20 for them; now they're $10...and with the Best Buy employee discount I think I paid $4 for a new pair. I don't know how a company can make a profit selling earbuds that sound that good for $4 a pair at wholesale, but I'm damned glad they can.

I bought a spare pair of these things lo these many years ago--like 2009--and they're still in the package. I haven't needed them. Go figure. Yet my niece said that these things don't last. I guess the younger generation doesn't know how to take care of things.

As for the CD player, I still find it kind of amazing that one could buy a portable CD player for under $30 that sounds as good as this one sounds. Even more amazing that, fifteen years later, it still works. Dang.

* * *

So I did a little rearranging of the garage the other day, and managed to extricate the snowblower from its summertime cocoon. When I need it, I won't have to dig it out.

I still need to spend some time in there getting crap organized, and some of it tossed, before winter really hits. My big plan is to move the mower into the garage and put all the lawn furniture into the shed; in the process of doing that I want to get the grass cut one more time.

But the garage, I should be able to organize and clean it to the point that I could park the Jeep inside--even with the bikes and the lawn mower in there--and if I can do that, then I need not fear winter weather should repairs become necessary. All it takes is some time and energy. The pile of junk in there is still larger than need be.

I've decided to throw out all the old moldy and mouse-ridden magazines in there. None are worth salvaging; old issues of Saturday Evening Post of this vintage typically go for about $6 on eBay and those are in much better shape than these are. "Hey, buy this magazine! Only $6 and it comes with aspergillus niger and hantavirus! Take two!" No.

* * *

So I got to the end of the extant WataMote and I have to say that I think it's not-bad, story-wise. I can see where Steven is coming from, but I find myself laughing with Momoko rather than at her, because she's a caricature of every unhappy, lonely high school kid out there.

Among other things, reading that series reminds me of what it was like in school, when the teacher said, "Okay, everyone find a partner and work on..." when you're on the bottom of the social ladder and don't have any friends in the class.

Maybe that's the difference; I can identify with Momoko, so I don't find the story offensive.

* * *

Well, I'd better think about hitting the hay, myself. 11 AM comes earlier than you'd think.

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