THURSDAY

To the strains of Guitar Hero in the background, he sits down to the computer keyboard and gazes squintily at the monitor. Aha, glasses. Now? Now he can see.

So...what's going on in the world of A-Bomb, of late?

He takes a sip of coffee out of the Glenivet single malt whiskey drinking glass (the guy behind the counter gave the glasses away for free when A-Bomb bought his American Spirits) and ruminates....

There is an adjustment period when people move in together. So far, the adjustment is going pretty well. There is a decided difference in freedom of movement--for instance, I can't take a shower and dry off and then walk nekkid to the bedroom (at least not when Nay-Nay is home) and I have troubles getting to the TV--MTV is seemingly on a constant loop, here, in the front room. Then again, I've not even really said that I wanted to play video games or watch the tube...perhaps I should be more vocal. But, this is what I do: I wait and stuff my wishes and desires to keep people comfortable, to keep things on an even keel. Besides, when I play Grand Theft Auto, I like to immerse myself in the game. People in the background, talking and shit?! That doesn't work too well with the ole GTA, for me, at least. But, as I was saying, co-habitation takes some getting used to, especially when a 14-year-old girl is involved. Naomi, Meagan's daughter is great, I love 'er, but I just don't know where she's coming from, sometimes. "There's no food in the house!" she calls. Wha--? No food?! I open the fridge. Foodstuffs pile out from the door and bury me amongst chips and bread and lunchmeat and pickles and Ramen noodles. From the chaos emerges my trembling fist, clutching tight to a Marie Callender chicken pot pie. "What about this?" I groan. "No," she blithely says as she walks over the Pile of Me and wanders out to the front room to devour more of the ubiquitous MTV reality shows. "Mom," she calls, "I'm a 14-year-old! I need a cell phone!"

I collapse underneath the vomitus of the refrigerator.

What else is going on in A-Bomb's life? Hmm....

Computers. I'm starting to hate the motherfucking things. I'm sick and tired of worrying about viruses and trojans and using a computer other than the one with which I had become accustomed nigh these last two, three years. Slow processes, worrying about what is needed upon Start-up and what could go the way of the dodo bird and sick of worrying about why the Epson printer is not working, though I loaded the CD onto this computer just as I did the other one.... I'm just sick of the fucking binary wasteland that is the 2009 computer world. I want a computer that is quick and confident and does what I fucking ask it to do...yesterday. I want blazing speed; I don't want to have to wait for the computer to scratch its head and say, "Oh...he wanted...me to...bold.... 'Yesterday.'" Oy vey. I may have to--if I can't get this computer and mine upstairs working correctly--I may have to just say fuggit and buy a new tower. I'll have to work some overtime, but I don't think that'll be a problem.

My new partner at work? She (Sharon) likes her overtime. I'm more than happy to oblige. Yesterday, for instance, we, and four other people, worked a nice fifteen-hour day. In the rain. In the slop. In the rainy, muddy slop. I jumped right into what needed to be done; though I finished the day with my raingear looking like I had wallowed in the mud all day (which, basically, I did) I had no qualms about the matter. I have no qualms, at all, about getting dirty. Actually, it's kinda cool, in a perverted way. It makes me feel like I earned my money for the day. And, in fact, I guess I had. Today, both lineman commented on how well and how hard I worked yesterday. That makes me feel good. (And then, later in the day, I took a corner in Birmingham a little too tight and blew open one of the trailer tires on a sharp-edged decorative rock--but that is a story for another day.) Regardless, overtime is good. I had seven hours last night and I had four on Monday, so...eleven hours. Good 'nough. I'll take it. And I'll pay my ever-mounting bills with it. Whee! Paying bills is fun! (One good thing? I paid off one of my loan payments last month, so, this month--and evermore--I'll have an extra $230.00 to throw at other bills. Good deal.)

What else? Ah, yes. My car. I need to get the brakes looked at. The car is just running really weirdly, and, from time to time, I smell burning metal. I'm on-call next week and so I'll have a company vehicle and so I'll be able to drop the car off at the garage and have them fix the damned brakes/alignment/shocks...or whatever. And then, later on, if I have the money, I'll get my windshield fixed, too. I was resting in the passenger seat, a couple of weeks ago, with my feet barely pressed up against the windshield and--pop!--instant spiderweb. Not cool. But! It is cool to look through at night. The way that it catches and reflects the lights from stores and other cars...pretty cool. (And, yes, that is false optimism, cheery Pollyannaism.)

Anyway.

I went on a cleaning spree last weekend and now the house is feeling more like a home, the only disaster of which to speak being Naomi's room, the room that she won't sleep in because there is no cable on the TV and she can't fall asleep without the cable acting as a background Sandman. Oy. Oy vey. The rest of the house is picked up and clutter-free and I aim to fucking keep it that way. The upstairs is really cozy and all I have to do with it is finish putting up the ceiling tiles. Meagan can help me with that: it's a two-person job.

All in all, life is good. Thanks for checking in and listening to me.

Peace to ya.