Words, Words, Words

August 10, 1999

The problem with my on-line journal is that entire days go by without me doing anything interesting. I've noticed that the authors of the most frequent journals tend to have

  1. A spouse
  2. Pets
  3. An interesting job
  4. A boring job they can make fun of
  5. Friends
  6. A life

Clearly this gives them an unfair advantage. And it can't be coincidence that so many of them have pets; obviously they're adopting animals just so they'll have something to write about. I couldn't do that. If I got a pet it would have to be something low-maintenance, like goldfish. My brother-in-law has an aquarium which is scummy and silty and reportedly one or two of the fish are still alive, so I know it's not much work. I even went so far as to prepare a few anecdotes ("Goldie pooped in my slippers again. I can't figure out how she finds her way from the tank to the bedroom--she is so smart."), but I'm worried that experts in actual fish behavior may be able to spot technical inaccuracies. Also, my condo has a no-pets clause.

So instead I've decided to make up anecdotes about my stuffed teddy bear, Floppy. He's even less maintenance than goldfish. Plus he has his own theme song:

He's Floppy the Purple Bear <toot toot!>
He's Floppy the Purple Bear!
He's one in a trillion
That Ursus vermilion
He's Floppy the Purple Bear! <toot toot!>

This would be a better song if vermilion meant "purple", but for a bear it's not bad.

Floppy the Purple Bear

Photo by Tom Powers

# # #

There's a severe drought in Maryland right now. They've posted signs in the bathrooms at work that read something like this:

WATER EMERGENCY

Every other sink in the lavatory has been turned off due to the moratorium.

Thanks for your cooperation.

So now if you want to wash your hands you'll have to...use a different sink. That'll really cut down on water usage, all right.

# # #

A few months ago the condo management decided to inspect every apartment in the building to see if we were breaking any rules. I got a note telling me that I needed to get more carpets. Now, I approve of the rule that 75% of the floor space has to be carpeted, but I always thought I was an exception, not because I'm special (although I am), but because I live on the first floor. So a good argument could be made that I don't actually need carpets, if only I weren't a mathematician with an exaggerated respect for rules. (ME: "You're wrong because...well, actually you're right...crap.")

My new carpets look good, except for one problem: they have fuzz all over them. Periodically I scuff the carpet with my feet to roll the fuzz up into little clumps, which I throw out. I figured that when the carpet comes out of the factory there must be all these tiny mini-threads buried in the nap that work their way out as I walk on it and turn into fuzz. Except I've been getting rid of the fuzz for a while now and it keeps coming back. So after I wrote tonight's entry I finally realized that it isn't the carpet at all:

I've spent the last four months walking on teddy bear crap.

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