8/20/10

A Christmas Carol.  You remember the Charles Dickens novel, right?  After I typed last night's blog post and headed out for a while, I could have sworn that I was transported right into that story.

Before I could visit someone and degrade myself for the night, I needed to wash away whatever remnants of dignity I had left.  A few beers oughtta do the trick.  Two of the movies that I watched yesterday were Waiting and Still Waiting, so of course I was left with some subconscious inclination to have my few beers at Applebee's.  I can't explain that sort of thing and neither can you.  It is what it is.  I'll just say to you what I've said to a lot of people over the years, and this is true.  I've never seen anyone mess with a customer's food for any reason.  Eight years of people treating me and my employees like shit - not one single solitary instance of revenge.  For whatever that's worth.

I saw the ghosts of Thursdays past sitting all over the place.  Pretty young girls and their pretty young boyfriends, stopping by for dinner and a drink after work.  Ah yes, the optimism and the hope... heh.  Been there.

The ghost of Thursdays present was at the bar.  Me.  Drinking alone and keeping my mouth shut.  Nuff said.

The ghosts of Thursdays future were at the far end of the bar.  Four porky old middle-aged dudes were hanging around, enjoying the cheap appetizers and beer while they chatted about how expensive Chuck's upcoming divorce was going to be.  Oh goodie, I can't wait to be a part of that.

I think there's some kind of moral in the original Dickens story, but I haven't managed to find the one that applies to my version.  I guess I am kind of an asshole, like ole Ebenezer.  I'm far from miserly though.  I would probably do well to spend a little less, in point of fact.  Maybe I need to avoid having any friends named Chuck.  That way I won't get dragged into such a depressing chat.  Yes, I'm sure that's the lesson.

As for today, things seemed to go fairly well.  I knocked out my four stops in around seven hours, including a quick lunch break.  Probably not my most efficient shift ever, but it was good enough.  Whenever there are no major controversies along the way, I have no complaints.

After checking into a few options, I've somehow managed to settle on the most expensive gym in Southeast Michigan.  I'm not sure exactly how that happened.  I just lift weights and mix in a little cardio work, meaning that I don't really take advantage of the full 'experience.'  To be fair though, the place is pretty damned nice.  Plus everybody there is far better looking than I am, so maybe I'll be able to keep up some of that motivation that seems to be so lacking in my life.  For a month or two, at least.  I hadn't lifted in a while, so I was surprised to find that my strength was still somewhat decent.  My lung capacity on the other hand... oy.  My time on the treadmill was enough to confirm that this fat gut of mine is a mofo.  We're gonna have to work on that.

In an odd twist, I wound up being the lame friend tonight.  A buddy of mine invited me to some broad's birthday party at a local dive bar.  I took a pass.  Drunk chicks are not really as fun as people seem to think they are.  Usually quite obnoxious, actually.  It is Friday though, so I did think about heading out for a bit.  The only problem was that I actually wore myself out at the gym.  I just wanted to get home and relax.  Go figure.

One more trailer and four more stops for tomorrow.  If it goes as smoothly as today went, I'll be a happy fella.  The last few Saturdays have been nice and easy.  I have no reason to expect anything different this time around.  Then, in typical wild Saturday night fashion... shoulder workout.  This getting old shit is a crock.