I am depressed on Tuesday but I do not drink. I go to a coffeehouse and drink 7-Up and water. Knowing that I need to find a biochemist or a chemist quickly, I ask most of the people who come into the coffeehouse and who I make eye-to-eye contact with "Are you a chemist or a biochemist?" One answers "I was going to be a research chemist, but my legs were too short". I give my best "Oh, of course" nod in agreement though I do not know the connection between the two.
Thursday, after fixing the mountain bicycle rear wheel only to find that the brake cables are old and shredded, I drink. To celebrate. Yes, that's it: I'm celebrating. I made great progress in getting the genetically-evolved neural networks to recognize patterns. I am ecstatic. And I drink. And I'm bored.
Friday, after lifting weights and running a number of errands, I head down to the Frat House. ChiChi is there and we find a quiet(er) table to catch up on things. ChiChi has not come to the Frat House for quite a while because ChiChi has been depressed. An argument with his sister has caused the depression. Armed with this fact and the impact that it has had on ChiChi, I realize that I cannot ask for the split this weekend. A woman...er...well...a person in a woman's dress is passing out the usual "supplies" and we take some. And the person tells us that Sabrina, the HVAC, has been in Vietnam for a few weeks and will be back in April. (It turns out Sabrina works for her...er...his family as a boy and actually makes a fair amount of money.) ChiChi introduces me to another friend Victoria who ChiChi knew years ago when Victoria was a boy. Victoria's friend, Richard, can be categorized as a ChiChi-and-a-half and is someone that has caught my eye on a number of occasions. And will certainly be featured in future weekend reports. The Frat House is very crowded by midnight with a number of familiar and unfamiliar people. The asian model, who everybody would recognize from his television work, is again hear tonight. We leave near 12:30 when the Garden Grove police drive through the parking lot looking for illegal or suspect activities. (And after I tell ChiChi that I am scared of police.)
I manage to get rid of ChiChi by about 9 am on Saturday. And I have breakfast in Brazil as I watch the final qualifying for the Brazilian Grand Prix. And I become frustrated when the session is red flagged three times because advertising signs by the side of the track break apart and fall on the track. (And it doesn't appear that it was that windy there.) I lift weights and run more errands. When I get home, I start drinking again - after using the electric hedge trimmers (which could certainly remove a finger if used carelessly). (I've accidentally cut through the electric extension cord with the hedge trimmer on one occasion!) I start drinking after using the electric hedge trimmers but before I use the power edger and power lawn mower - just to make it fun. When I'm mowing the backyard, Nopey starts playing his usual game of moving his tennis balls and toys off the grass that has been cut and onto the uncut grass - in the path of the lawnmower. He probably remembers the time that I ran over a tennis ball with the lawnmower - the result being a loud bang and me jumping about ten feet up in the air and ten feet to the side of the mower at the sudden noise. And he's trying to startle me like that again! But I carefully avoid the situation - utilizing all of my intelligence and intellect to outsmart a 12 year old golden retriever. And I continue drinking (but I also take a high quality multi- vitamin with 7333% of the RDA for the B vitamins as a preventative).
A few hours later I wake up after having passed out. The television is on, the stereo is on, there are messages on the answering machine, and there is a note at the door from a city council candidate who had stopped by. I am sober enough to drive, so I gather up all of the laundry and head to the laundromat (because I want to get it all done in one shot). Because I have simply picked up all of the sheets off the bed from the four corners, when I pull the sheets out of the laundry basket a number of supplies, supply wrappers, and toys scatter themselves on the floor of the laundromat. Two ladies and one guy see the things that have fallen on the floor and give me a strange look. I mumble an inadequate "Wow, I must have had a lot of fun last night" and notice the other people staring at me for the remainder of their time at the laundromat.
Sunday passes with no significant events except for a bicycle ride, lifting weights, an ice hockey game, and reading the newspaper. I get hit with the ice hockey puck just above the right glove and I lose some feeling in my hand for about ten seconds. And will probably be sore on Monday. We lose the game in overtime. A large article about TRW in LA Times business section encourages me regarding Monday morning's stock price. And should put me closer to retirement.