My doorbell rang at 8:05 and when I opened the door, I found the guy here to do my quarterly exterminating service. It was not my "regular" guy, because I requested a weekend service, and he's off this weekend.
The man in the doorway said, "Hello, Mr. Halliwell. My name's John and I'm here to do your service this morning."
To which I replied, smiling, "Martin," indicating my correct last name.
Clearly embarrassed, he said, "I'm sorry. Sometimes I call the person by the name of the street they live on."
"No worries," I said, not going for another laugh at his expense by saying, "Are you sure your first name's John or do you sometimes take your customer's first name as your own, as well?"
The more I thought about what he had said ("Yes, Bon Qui Qui, that's what I had said."), the funnier his "synapse collapse" became to me, and I had a quick succession of thoughts:
- I could see him just naturally saying the street name over and over to himself as he drove to a new place to do service, "Halliwell Drive, Halliwell Drive, Halliwell Drive," and then getting there and just blurting out, "Mr. Halliwell."
- I imagined him doing it to several other customers and their reactions and his apology, since he said, "Sometimes I..." indicating that it has happened before. I also wondered how many times people didn't bother to correct him.
- I thought about how this might make an interesting and funny character trait for a character in a book.
- And finally, I thought of the neurology and psychology work of Dr. Oliver Sacks, and his book that I've read called, "The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat."
I got to the gym at about 3:00 today, and when I took out my exercise sheet on which I track my upper and lower body workouts, I discovered that it was the wrong "version" of it, if you will. Currently, I have three copies of that sheet:
- My original one, which is from 2008, and the one on which I had really built up the amount of weight I was using on each machine.
- A second one, which indicates the new, lowered weights that I reduced down to when I started doing weights again a few months ago, but it only has the weights for the upper body machines on it.
- And my most current one, which is from this past week, which has the current weights that I'm using both for the upper and lower body machines.
When I checked my U.S. mail, I had a card in my box with a return address from one of my aunts and uncles, which looked like the same size as the Christmas card they recently sent me. I thought, "They have accidentally sent me another Christmas card."
However, the outside of the card said, "Just a note to let you know..." and the inside, "I'm thinking of you." My aunt wrote:
I only wish my life was as good as yours. Good for you. Hope your holidays were great.
Oceans of love always,
Aunt Terri, Uncle Dennis, and Cynda
I'm not exactly sure what prompted that, but perhaps it was my holiday letter that I sent to them. In any case, so sweet!
I met Robert in Durham at just after 6:00, and we had a quick dinner at C&H Cafeteria, where we both had the Chicken Ranch Pasta. It was pretty darn good comfort food. We both had a side of green beans with it, and I had a banana and strawberry salad with mine.
Divvying up our "Theater Snack Pack"—which I had put together and brought with me, and which consisted of red licorice, chocolate-covered raisins, and Bit O' Honeys—we headed to the Carolina Theater to see the 7:10 screening of The Road.
I'd read the book, so I was very curious to see how it would be adapted for the screen, and had a couple of scenes in mind that stood out in my memory and was looking forward to seeing those in particular.
This is a dark, dark movie—both literally and figuratively—as it should have been. I thought it stayed pretty loyal to the book, and I had the same reaction at the end of the movie as I did at the end of the book, which, I suppose, is further corroboration of its loyalty.
|The Road synopsis: A father and his son walk alone through a post-apocalyptic event in America. Nothing moves in the burned and ravaged landscape save the ash on the wind and water. It is cold enough to crack stones, and, when the snow falls it is gray. The sky is dark. Their destination is the warmer south, although they don't know what, if anything, awaits them there. They have nothing: just a pistol to defend themselves against the lawless cannibalistic bands that stalk the road, the clothes they are wearing, a rusting shopping cart of scavenged food—and each other.|
This is not the kind of movie I'd recommend for a first date, or with the hopes of possibly getting laid afterwards.
I met Joe at 10:00 at Flex, where the theme of the night was, "80s Disco Music." People wearing roller skates or short-shorts got in free.
As expected, other than one bar patron, only the staff wore roller skates, which when you think about it in terms of liability, who thinks roller skates, cement floors, and drunk people mix for a wise combination?
And, thankfully no one tried to get in free with the likes of these on:
Joe and I left shortly after midnight and we went over to the newly opened, and open 24x7, restaurant called The Diner on Glenwood Avenue.
I got their 3-Cheese Omelet, which they did go ahead and use a hyphen in its name on the menu, so I knew I wasn't getting three cheese omelets, but one made with three cheeses. Off and running...
We evidently timed it pretty well, as we didn't have to wait for a table when we arrived, but when we left, there was a line out the door. In the front of the line, was my friend Jason (@dimambro) who is so handsome, but hopelessly straight.