The Atypical Typical Weekend

By that I mean: less of the usual events, more of the usual pace.


Cat Bolg III. Der Boots became Das Boots on Friday. That's a play on the German language for those who studied it in high school for two years. I'm probably incorrect with the usage but I digress...The Vet told me that the kitten should be angry at me and will probably hide for a day or two. The result: still affectionate, got more social with visitors to the apartment and he's starting to do his own thing around the house...which leads me to wonder if the Vet actually performed the procedure.


Saturday night featured a box social with the corporate friends. At one point, a woman who claimed to not be of the corporate cloth told me and soup that we were probably in a fraternity and our favorite meal is spaghetti and meatballs. The game was on. Within fifteen minutes Soup was six months off a separation/divorce and I was a child-hating Second Grade teacher. We could have taken the illogical lies further if it weren't for the distraction of everybody else.


Welcome to Week 1 of the NFL season. As if the events of Friday and Saturday weren't enough, I made a quick two hundred mile roundtrip jaunt to Milwaukee to treat my parents to a ball game. I picked seats on the sunny side of the park assuming it would be a nice 70 degree day. I was wrong. It was hot.


I have successfully stayed below the $3/gal line with my fillups. Four years ago tonight the Midwest panicked about gas prices, made runs to get their cars fueled, and a price like the one pictured was considered borderline gouging. Everybody woke up the next day and realized that the oil supply wasn't going to get tight. Somewhere between then and now prices (and profits) went up and stayed up.

Sleep

. . [~] . 0 (Grumble) Grumbles .