A typical set of days. (I think there is a definite pattern here!)
Friday on the way home I get hit by a tumbleweed on the motorcycle. Recall that Friday was very windy and a set of tumbleweeds blew across Del Amo near the LA River just after I got off the Long Beach freeway. One hit me and pushed me a bit sideways and left a little scratch on the motorcycle.
Friday I go home, visit the dentist, lift weights, walk Nopester, and go to the Frat House. Most of the usual people are there, though ChiChi, Sabrina the HVAC, friend of a friend, and the ChiChi and a half are not here. At 1am I make the decision not to go home with anybody and I am asleep (alone) by 1:30am.
Saturday I get up at 5:45am, do the laundry, go for a bicycle ride, wax the motorcycle, wash the truck, wax the truck, mow the front yard, mow the back yard (with Nopey moving his toys in my way again), and do some shopping. By 2:00 in the afternoon I am bored, so I start drinking as I watch the Kings/Ducks game. I set all of my clocks ahead and fall asleep at 8:30 PST (which becomes 9:30 PDT).
Sunday I go for a bicycle ride, work on the racecar in Riverside from noon until 7pm, then play an ice hockey game. Unfortunately there is no gravitational or science project being worked on across the street from the racecar. (And I continue to not go down to San Juan Capistrano for a standing job interview with the telecommunications company that the driver owns. Though I did ask him what he wanted me to do for his company.) My winning lottery ticket comes in and I am $5 richer. I ponder whether this recent win is enough to retire on, but decide to postpone writing the retirement letter.
I wake up a little late on Monday morning because there was a brief power failure after I went to sleep at midnight on Sunday night. (The ice hockey game kept me up late.) Now I have to reset all of my clocks again. I go to work (intentionally) unshaven and with tussled hair to give the "heroin hangover" Monday morning look. (As I continue to try and emulate my hero Keith Richards.)
As I walk out of building R8 at noontime with a NASA visitor, we get into a discussion about instrument electrical integration. And I interrupt him with "One of our buildings is on fire!" There is a thick column of black smoke shooting vertically up from an area near building M4. The NASA guy says "Good thing it isn't coming from M1 where the spacecraft is". It is at least ten minutes later that a stream of fire engines roar through traffic trying to get to the fire. And ten minutes after that that the helicopters arrive.
I get home Monday after work and as I am looking through a set of drawers under the bed, I find a pair of women's thong underwear in stylish purple. I remember this time who's they are. Seeing that I have made a trip to the liquor store on the way home from work and the whiskey is starting to kick in, I try on the underwear. With a bit of stretching they actually fit. And I have a sudden urge to start cleaning the house. After washing the bathroom floors, dusting the living and dining room, vacuuming the entire house, and waxing the bathroom floors, I am starting to lose energy. Though an occasional sip (or maybe gulp) of whiskey keeps me propelled through the house cleaning. By 9pm (or is it 10pm) I am running into walls when making trips between the kitchen, the living room, and/or the bathroom. It is time for sleep.