Tomorrow, and few days next week, I’ll actually have to do things resembling actual work. This is both good and bad.

First, it lets me get out of the house on a regular, predictable basis which is not something I’ve been able to do this summer. (More on that someday.) Unfortunately, despite being able do that, I still won’t be able to finish the handful of projects I’d like to do that can only be completed by visiting places in other towns. (More on that someday, too; until then a few hints: knife makers, pen makers, Jesus and Moses.)

Second, because the girls are starting school, it will give me a couple actual days to myself. This is a vital thing for me, especially before the start of autumn term. Unfortunately, it’s not enough time to complete the projects in the previous paragraph as I still have to go into work a couple days and do some work at home.

Third, and perhaps most important, it gives me an actual excuse to put off the things I’ve been putting off which makes me feel better about putting them off. Nothing helps put you back in denial more than having a solid excuse to avoid doing something. If, for some reason, you have a day off from that excuse, well, you still can use it as an excuse because you don’t want to spend that day off, which you totally deserve, doing things that resemble work.

Lastly, it puts me back in a more stable rhythm. I go to bed at a regular time and get up at a regular time and have a regular(ish) morning routine. Unfortunately, after about a week or two, the old in-office rhythm sets in at work and I start getting little done.

Oddly, I then start looking forward to the holidays when I can get trapped in the house and put things off. I’m weird that way.

I’ve got our girls washing dishes and hanging laundry. This has left me bored enough that I find myself looking for work to do.

While She Who Must Be Obeyed is away at her job a few days a week sorting clothes for Laura Ashley and other companies, our oldest is suddenly without a club and has been spending time at home “doing homework” and “studying”. (Translation: Arguing with daddy about the appropriate amount of time that should be allocated to using her tablet and the internet.)

Because of this, I’ve taken the opportunity to teach the girls how to do stuff around the house. My technique involves merely telling them to do things. For example, I say “Youngest wash the dishes.” or “Oldest hang the laundry.” and then deal with short question and answer period that follows the instructions (Why? Because. End of Q and A.) I then field technical and procedural questions and, on occasion, demonstrate how to do something.

The problem is that leaves me with little to do which takes away any excuses I have not to do things I’ve been meaning to do. This is a variation of the issue I’ve talked about before. This time, though, I’ve found useful distractions that are worth spending time doing but then given them away to other people to do.

With those distractions gone I now find myself looking for other things to do. Yeah, I could write more and start a small side business that’s been nagging at me for a couple years but that would require a mental leap to get past fear and denial. (I’ve planned the latter a few times but always manage to distract myself.)

It’s easier to find something else to do. Our kitchen knives are nice and sharp now. But they need some cleaning and straightening. I’ll take care of that tomorrow. I may even check the knives we don’t use much. They probably need some work, too.

The girls will keep doing housework, though. It’s for their own good, even if it leaves me kind of bored.

Several hundred years ago I took part in a band trip from Hayden, Colorado to San Diego, California. My job was to play trumpet and buy the dirty magazines.

Much of what I remember about the lead up to the trip involved selling pizzas to fund it. Then I vaguely remember a bus ride with a stop in Las Vegas which is arguably, when you are 15 and it is the early ’80s before Las Vegas became a family resort, the worse possible place to be a teenager. You can’t even look inside the casinos and the circus at Circus Circus Las Vegas is, well, just a circus in Las Vegas.

Eventually we got to California and may or may not have performed at Knott’s Berry Farm. I also remember our performance at Sea World San Diego being cancelled but us getting to have fun there anyway. I also remember a trip to the San Diego Wild Animal Park and hearing from our guide the legend that the “Wgasa” in the Wgasa Bush Line stood for “Who gives a shit anyhow?” (Yeah, and there were some animals there too, but that’s not as cool as the Wgasa story.)

In San Diego, after a trip to Tijuana where several people smuggled back OTF knives and switch blades, we went “deep sea” fishing where we caught a lot of Benito and several fellow band members threw up over the front of the boat. (I’m pleased to say I didn’t, which is odd as I had a bad habit of throwing up on long car rides, but that’s another post.) After we returned to shore we cooked and ate the tuna.

Our rooms were a series of bungalows on the beach. This may have been my first view of an ocean, and we may have gone swimming, but that wasn’t as important as my job.

For some reason (boredom) during our stay at the bungalows someone decided it was necessary for us to acquire “adult” magazines. Because I was the tallest in our bungalow and looked older than I was (more on that in another post) it became my job to take the collected money to a convenience store and buy a copy of Hustler Magazine with the scratch and sniff centerfold. (No, really. Look it up.)

The actual purchase was clumsy as I felt compelled to embellish the purchase by saying it was for my dad earning me a suspicious look as I was so un-California it was pathetic. (Note to criminals: Don’t embellish; just be confident in your lies.) In the end the magazine was purchased and passed around.

Eventually we got home, but I don’t remember anything about that part of the trip at all except that, despite all my work, I didn’t get to keep the magazine.

Today was reasonably productive for a zombie. At least it was in the morning.

Usually, the first day after a long trip is spent cleaning and doing laundry and resetting immediate goals and plans. I had intended to ignore most of that and go to the bank today because last Friday was pay day. Unfortunately, a nasty storm hit and that kept me inside (because I’m totally sugar and will totally melt in the rain).

Then I got the brilliant idea of contacting a friend via the magic of the internet and talking his ear off because “English”. I did manage to finish my daily 10 ideas. Eventually. I also roughed out a review schedule for stuff I got at the ISOT and stuff I’ve just acquired.

I also scheduled time to take photos of stuff and update my old site. (Notice I didn’t actually do any of this, just planned it.)

Somewhere in there I fed the girls and myself and managed to exercise some (more on that in another post).

The weather never broke and I never went out but the weather did break me. In the early evening I got my migraine spot. I popped couple aspirin and am now hurrying to get this done so I can go to bed.

Of course, right after I got the spot I played a few games and did surprisingly well for someone who couldn’t see clearly out of the center of his eyes for several minutes. I did so well that I played longer than I’d planned and finished with a much more positive attitude than I usually have when I finish playing the game.

Now, I’m rushing to finish this so I can head off to bed. I hope the worst of the weather changes are over. Even if it’s raining tomorrow I might go out, but that might just be the migraine talking.