Wives Shed Like Cats

in ,
I have many nicknames for my roommates, Katrine and Moos. Collectively, I call them The Wives. Individually, I call Katrine the "Queen of Ballard," and Moos "The Dark Lord."
Alas, I have new nicknames for Katrine and Moos: "Tabby" and "Himalayan," respectively. You see, The Wives shed like cats. To live with them is to be surrounded by tumbleweeds of hair.

I've grown accustomed to the lifestyle, but the occasional visitor will find the clumps of hair that collect unusual. After Sergio's extended stay in the Ballard Burrow last week, he said he couldn't believe the masses of hair in the bathroom, kitchen and bedrooms. True, we do challenge the average barber shop for most hair on the floor. I actually had to re-tape most of my Christmas presents because hair got under the tape. I really shouldn't have wrapped presents sitting on the family room carpet.

I know, I know. Vacuum frequently, you suggest. Unfortunately, our vacuum recently passed away - strangled to death by a cord of the combined Tabby and Himalayan hair. I'm off to Fred Meyer today to buy a new one. If this one dies, I'm going to the pet store to buy cat brushes.

in

Jeff Renner, you son of a bitch.

You, the "chief meteorologist of King 5," told me it was supposed to snow yesterday. It didn't. One to 3-inches of accumulation in the Seattle area, you said. Blasphamy. I'm about to go old school on your ass and cut off your tongue (with the machete Scott gave me for Christmas) for the blatant lie you told.

Even King 5 meteorologist Shannon O'Donnell, the Vanna White to your Pat Sajak, said it was going to snow us into a new Ice Age yesterday, but instead it just rained. And rained. The only thing worse than a dick tease is a snow tease, and Shannon O'Donnell is Queen Snow Tease.

Weatherpeople piss me off. They seek to fill their audience with disappointment under the veil of forecasting weather.

Ever since I can remember, I fell for all the commercial teasers by local broadcast stations claiming that snow was on the way. What a ratings scam. I stayed up late for the 11 o'clock news every time, wading through the sports, politics and untimely death reports to learn if and when snow would arrive. Yes, snow is on the way, the weatherperson would say. I'd then go to sleep, anxious to frolic in the snow the following morning. I'd dream of snowmen, snow angels, sledding and making yellow snowcones. Yet, in the morning, I would look out the window and see the same grass and concrete I saw every non-snowy morning. The grief and disappoint was unbearable. At age 5, I didn't have the diction I would later developed as a teenager, otherwise I would have said, "Fuck this."

I'm convinced that at least half the children in juvenile detention centers must be disturbed and angered by false snow forecasts. Thankfully, I had the outlet of playing mildly violent 8-bit Nintendo video games or tracing Cookie Monster and Elmo to calm my nerves, otherwise I'd probably be selling crack today.

"Weatherpeople" is the modern, politically-correct term for what people used to call "prophets" back in the day. Just like weatherpeople, prophets thought they knew what would happen in the future, but were usually wrong. Most of them did it for the attention. Sure some of them had God on their side, but today's weatherpeople have science on their side. Close enough.

I can only pray that, hundreds of years from now, some lunatic doesn't start a religion worshipping Jeff Renner.

in

I was struck by an epiphany yesterday, as I left REI with new ski poles, goggles and gloves in hand.

Lately, I’ve been buying some fairly expensive items for myself – camera equipment, clothing, HDTV, etc. Certainly I’m enabled by a comfortable-enough salary for such purchases, but I often say to myself, “Well, you would be spending at least this much if you were dating someone, but since you’re not, you can buy it.” And I proceed the purchase the item for myself.

I think I’ve noticed the trend because of more significant purchases recently. I’ve been single for more than two years now, but if I were instead in a relationship for the last two years, I’d be buying some significantly expensive gifts for the girlfriend by this time – so I instead buy more expensive gifts for myself. It’s a weird economic logic that’s developed, but it’s become the standard buying behavior.

I can even look back to a year and a half ago. I was single for a shorter period of time and didn’t spend as much on myself. My thought then was, “Sure, I’ll go out for food tonight because I’d be spending double if I was dating someone,” which was true. I was at an earlier stage of singlehood then, so I spent less on myself. Now that I’m at a serious level of singlehood, I’m spending more.

I can’t justify why I maintain this purchasing equilibrium, but I can say that when I’m home, watching “The Office” on HD, out shooting photos at a concert, or hitting the slopes at Crystal, I’m at peace with the financial freedoms of singlehood. Company has an unprecedented value, but I’ll manage spoiling myself for the time being, in lieu of a girlfriend.