8 January
So I left my house yesterday morning firmly resolved to get a space heater or die trying!
I went to the first hardware store that I passed on 9th Ave, and said "I would like to see your finest space heaters, my good man!"
What I really wanted, you see, was one of those little porcelain heaters that are about as big as my foot but put out heat like a blast furnace. I saw one and asked its price.
It was $70.
I'm not paying $70 for anything the size of my foot, except for maybe a diamond or lump of gold or something, as that would really be an excellent bargain.
Space heaters, however...So, as Dave Van will be happy to hear, (his skinflint ant soul is horrified by my happy-go-lucky grasshopper ways), I stomped out with my nose in the air.
I realized, you see, that I actually live in New Jersey, and I can get stuff like this much cheaper there, and no sales tax to boot, so there is no point in scouring expensive old Manhattan when Cynthia can drive me to Home Depot on Saturday!
I'll happily freeze until then.
Though that does not preclude me from continuing to bitch about the cold until that thing is firmly ensconced in my apartment.
My bathroom is not only the coldest room in my apartment, it's the coldest room in the house. It may also be the coldest room in New Jersey, but I cannot say for certain.
It's funny, you can totally feel the difference between the kitchen, which is cold but normal, and then one step into the bathroom where it is positively arctic.
Honestly, the moment before getting into the shower, after getting undressed and waiting for the water to get hot enough is enough to make one want to remain filthy, if I didn't need to take a shower in order to stay warm!
The toilet seat is icy, the floor is frigid, the tub is chilling.
I guess it's a combination between being an outside wall and being very far away from the heat source, but I really don't remember it being so fucking cold last year!
So I called my Mom and said "Guess what? I bought a computer and I got it financed!" and she said "What's the interest rate?" and I said "I have no idea!"
You see, since it was all done through Gateway, they didn't tell me. Mom said that perhaps I should find out, so I called the bank and it turned out that the rate was 19.9% and the final total was more than $1000 over the price of the computer.
"Goodness me", I thought, "I'm not entirely pleased with that."
So I called Mom back, and she told me to buy it with her credit card and pay her back at 0% interest, a far preferable rate.
Isn't my Mom swell? Doesn't she look after me? When the hell am I not going to need looking after, for heaven's sake? Dave, why didn't you tell me to ask about the rate?
Can you tell the time by the TV?
I can. If I leave the house for work during the first Martha Stewart Living I'm in really great shape. Also, I have gone back in time, since I haven't left the house that early in six months.
If I leave the house during the second Martha Stewart Living, I'm in pretty good shape and will arrive at a reasonable hour. If I see the beginning of Bear in the Big Blue House, I'm riding that ragged edge of disaster.
If I am around to sing the goodbye song with Bear and Luna ("Goodbye, goodbye, good friends goodbye, and tomorrow's just like today! The moon, the Bear and the Big Blue House will be waiting for you to come and play!") I am fucked.
It's the same at night! If I go to bed before Conan is over, I feel very virtuous, but if I see that Leno rerun they have at 2a, then forget it.
Strangely enough, seeing Leno means singing along with Bear the next morning!
Today's horoscope:
Reach for the heights. You can fly high in love today, just don't be so foolhardy you risk crashing to the ground.
One year ago today:
"My mother's porn star name is Pixie 69!"
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Last Updated Fri 8 January 09:13:09 1999