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Me: The marketing folks requested I print another set of posters for them but this time “twice as big”, does that mean 2x area or 2x each axis meaning four times bigger?
Boss:  Terry, you’re dealing with marketing people.  They’ve gotten where they are by ignoring fact and figures and going for what “feels” better.
Me: So you’re saying I need to say which “feels” twice as big?
Boss:  Yes, you could say that.  Which print has twice the presence to it?
Me: Presence?
Boss:  Yes.
Me: You agree that this is utter horseshit.
Boss: Yes.

I concluded to double the axes making it four times bigger, as that was twice the “twiceness” that the requester wanted.  I gave them 100% more twiceness than if I just made it twice the size.  That should make them happy.

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Knots seem to be part of a set of sacred knowledges known only to stevedores, teamsters, and Boy Scouts so when I secured the tarp over the trailer with a set of alternating lark’s heads and two half hitches the onlookers in the moving caravan felt that they had witness something performed in sacred time.  The impression of mastery faded quickly when half my knots came undone on the way due to the vibrating of the line which seemed to be made of Teflon.  The rest of the trip alternated between 65 and 5 MPH and we reached our target a little before noon.

Then terror struck.

The apartment was listed as on the 3rd floor, but there was a ground floor for parking making it effectively the 4th floor.  There was no elevator, and the ceiling heights were such that moving large objects up the stair cases required that hunch/squat/tilt combination that must have been designed by Soviet scientists to most effectively destroy the lower back.  A dog was part of the moving party and each time someone went into the apartment it began barking.  By counting these canine chimes I determined that it took 11 trips to move everything and thanks to my fitbit, some 5800 steps.

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Today and tomorrow were blocked off to help someone move and the person moving requested I bring the family landscape trailer. The trailer is large enough to hold a truck, as moving offroad vehicles was its original use. The trailer can move 8 canoes at once and largely contain the entirety of a 20-something’s life as it had previously done when moving another friend and later my brother. It’d been a few years since I’d driven the trailer and truck and I didn’t remember such facts as “thing takes up 6 parking spots” and that the plate should read “CURBSLYR” for the grace with which it makes right turns.  When I arrived at the apartment complex there were sets of four spots open but no 5-ers, the closest to the building being blocked off by a Prius… gha…. Prius.  The parking process was aided by two African American fellows that were very helpful in parking and unhooking with commands like “Ok,  swing that shit ’round” and “c’mon, haul it back.”

The packing was easy as the person who needed assistant did a keen job of pre-packing so the first trial of the day was enduring the heat. The second trial was not having brought enough to drink and making a Pepsi Max run to Wal-mart at around 10 PM. I think after a day of moving, I was adequately dressed to blend in to a late night Maryland big box retailer:

I did not wear the duckface/peace sign for the trip to Wal-mart.

I think the double shorts were what sealed the deal.

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I needed more 2-stroke engine oil, and went to TruValue to get some. On checkout:

Attendant: Would you like to become a member of the TruValue Member Club?
Customer-in-Front: No.
Attendant: I think you should.
Customer-in-Front: Ok. *receives and fills out form, line advances*
Attendant: Would you like to become a member of the TruValue Member Club?
Me: Will it reduce the price of the items I’m purchasing?
Attendant: No.
Me: Will this purchase reduce the cost of future purchases of similar items?
Attendant: No. But you should.
Me: Will it guarantee me a place in the after life?
Guy Behind Me: *huff* C’mon!
Attendant: No.
Me: Did it save the guy in front of me any money?
Attendant: No.
Guy Behind Me: I don’t have all good damn day!
Me to Guy: Really? The guy in front of us took 2 minutes to apply for a member card that in no way affected his purchase and you’re going ape on me for asking about the program? Calm down. If you want me to, I’ll apologize for having a human interaction.

The fellow behind me glared at me. He was twice my size and if he wanted to rumble in the parking lot, I would have quickly said uncle. Nothing came of it, and as I drove off, I looked for him in my rear-view mirror. He looked sad.

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Wanda, my 2006 Toyota Matrix, was in need of some cosmetic attention so today I set out to wash, vacuum, and Armor-all her for the first time in, if not her life, at least a pretty long stretch.  As I set to cleaning, the flavor text of “Tromp the Domains” came to mind:

  • White stain on door (May 2010) – When driving from Austin, TX to Tucson, AZ I tried to save time by brushing my teeth while driving.  Too late did I learn that the viscosity of toothpaste spittle prevented me from reasonably spitting it out my window while driving and much dribbled down my door.  The residue didn’t come off with normal wiping but Armor-All took care of it.
  • Green splotch under paint on bumper guard (Sept 2010) – I drove through what may have been a cloud of locusts going through Kansas.  The front of my car looked washed in green hamster blood, but some had gotten under the paint and was only visible once the paint came off.
  • Pine needles in hatchback recess (Nov 2010) – The Everglades had their beauty which I paid for with blood, almost literally, as I think the slash pine needles in the seal of my rear door came from me trying to escape bugs after taking pictures.  I had parked under a copse of slash pines and didn’t bother to brush the branches away before closing the door.

Were I industrious, I could probably trace where the salt crust on the inside of my wheel well came from.

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The trifoliate orange would not give me a crown of thorns as I passed by.
The holly bushes would not claim the skin about my ankles when I went to the garage.
The dwarf Japanese maple would not longer hide my cat’s gambling ring.

These victories would come at my hands which wielding some sort of two stroke engine powering a whirling or reciprocating blade would subdue the flora about my home. The glacial uprising of the bushes were easily stopped with a hedge trimmer. I’ve learned that I’m just as bad with hedge trimmers as I am with hair trimmers, but only just. From here, I quickly encountered trouble as there were no fully functional lawn mowers, leaf blowers, or standard string weed whackers at my house. What to do? Use the wrong tool for the wrong job. While string heads are standard on weed whackers, blades are also available. These do cut down weeds but are much less graceful when impacting the ground. Each slight dip that contacted earth resulted in a small grapeshot catapult load of stone hitting my legs. I slowly got better, but not without cost.

1d8 or 1d12+2 against plant-based life.


At days end, I was coated in a fine layer of dirt, gravel, and poison ivy shrapnel but had restored the corner of my man-card that was lost when I went to Jiffylube to get an oil change.

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My Roomba started doing what I will the “I DON’T GET IT!” dance whereby once turned on, it would rapidly nudge forward and backward while spinning and then shut itself down.  I assumed there was something wrapped around the wheels so I took apart the casings and found nothing.  Then, I de-haired every area I could get access to with still no success.  Finally, I googled the Roomba dance and found that it’s quite common and comes from the cliff detection beams, the system the Roomba uses to prevent itself from running off things, being dirty.  Dog hair was preventing the IR beam from being either sent or received and the Roomba was interpreting this as being surrounded by cliffs as if being stuck at the top of a phone pole.  I cleaned out these recesses and the Roomba emitted its tiny victory chime.  Looking around, the space around my chair was a disaster of dog hair, cat hair, dust, and carpet pieces that I had no interest in vacuuming so, I set the Roomba the task of cleaning up after itself which it did so cheerfully.  I wonder if this is the robotic equivalent of having to clean up the OR after one has surgery.

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Since December, a half dozen FedEx packages have not been properly delivered, so I called FedEx Home to see what the source of the error was:

FedEx Person: Sir, it appears that the system is interpreting your address as E. Bristol Rd near Brownsville Rd.  Where should it be?
Me:  West Bristol Rd near Chinquapin Rd closer to Southampton.
*we went back and forth for about 10 minutes trying to find my house based on a landmark which ended when I sent a Google map URL*
FedEx Person: Ok, a note will be attached to the address indicating the location.  Sir, I want to thank you for understanding, most people aren’t nearly this calm.
Me: GPS has generally improved the world, but my address is that 1 in 1000 outlier where it just doesn’t work.  I’ve gotten used to it.  Also, I have a nuclear option.
FedEx Person: Nuclear option?
Me: Yes, every FedEx employee has a monthly quality bonus which can be quite sizable that goes away if there’s a single customer complaint.  That’s a big red button that’s easy to press and as I sit on the phone, I mentally run my finger around it.  I find it calming.
FedEx Person: Oh, so you know about the…
Me: Yes, yes I do.  So, my overnight packages will again be overnight packages?
FedEx Person: Yes, Mr. Robinson.  Thank you for the opportunity to correct the error.  Thank you , I mean thank you.

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A coworker was taking apart his Roomba today at work and marveling at its complexity as he removed great tufts of dog hair from it.  “It’s not amazing, but it’s mediocre daily, which is better than me vacuuming well once a week” he said to another fellow skeptical of its effectiveness.  “Show me how it works” asked the second guy, so the Roomba was placed on the floor and started.

Coworker 2: I see that it navigates around, but how well does it pick up things?
Coworker 1: Let’s see.  *scatters hole punch detritus on the floor, starts Roomba*
Coworker 2: It doesn’t really pick it up.
Coworker 1: It works on the assumption that it’ll go over the same area multiple times, it’ll get it eventually.

So we waited a bit and none of the pieces appeared to be picked up.  A pen was made around the paper leavings with boxes and the Roomba was placed inside so it could go no where else and still the paper bits stayed.  Eventually, the demonstrator said “I guess paper is hard to pick up” and it was left at that.

Later, a member of housekeeping came by with a dustpan and brush and cleaned up the bits as part of his rounds.  Quieter, faster, and without much fanfare, a von Neumann machine did what was necessary to provide for itself.

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Jiffy Lube Attendant: For a high performance, high mileage vehicle like yours, we recommend 10w30 high mileage blend to keep your car running great.
Me: Ma’am, please look at the front of my car. *pause*  What you see is the piebald front of a salvage recovery 2006 Toyota Matrix.  It may be 9 horsepower and the rear passenger side floods when I turn on the air conditioner.  If you can tell me my glorified station wagon is “high performance” with a straight face, I will buy your fancy oil package.
Jiffy Lube Attendant: Ok, sir, I have you down for our standard oil change, it should be done in about 15 minutes.