Made it to the weekend.

Yesterday wasn't that bad, actually. A lot of people took Easter as an excuse for a four day weekend so traffic was very light. I was so freaking tired I kept screwing up things all morning. At one point I picked up a box that was on my order list, marked it off, and instead of putting it on my pallet, put it back on the shelf (it'll go out Monday.)

My boss got my attention when he told me he might have two tickets for the Giants-Dodgers game. He had to check with the guy who gave them to him, but they were excellent seats. Turned out that the owner had promised them to someone else if T couldn't use them, but frankly, I was so dead it would have been a waste to go to the game. Hell, I didn't even watch it on TV. I was in bed by 1930. He did tell me that since I screwed up my day off request for the Heaven & Hell/Megadeth show (I forgot what day it was on and asked for the wrong day off) he had talked to the OM and made sure that the day after the show I can come in, do my route, and bail early. He also said he'd try to lighten the load for that day.

This is why I still have hope for this job.

Today is more cleaning (shoveling, actually) of the apartment. I want the crap out, and the stuff we're keeping organized. I see a lot of my older gaming material going up on eBay very soon. I may head back into the bedroom for a bit to grab some more sleep. (Since I went to bed so early, my body woke me up at the usual time.)

Oh, I caught Robert Ludlum in a glaring error. I'm rereading The Bourne Identity for the first time in nearly 25 years. At one point, a character tells the story of The Man Who Never Was as an example of intelligence creating someone out of nothing. However, the book has "Captain Martin" carrying information about the D-Day landings, not the invasion of Sicily. Threw me off a bit, since that story is one of my favorite anecdotes from the history of military disinformation (along with the First United States Army (Group)).

Still the book is even more amazing than I remember, and far, far better than the film (which I loved, BTW.) The constant twists and intrigues, the mysteries and the desperation of the title character make me regret having to put the book down.

"Barry Manilow, Mr Rico! Millions of him!"

On occasion, I will set aside my curmudgeonly ways and put iTunes on shuffle and risk hearing music I'm not familiar with.

I know, such bravery deserves a Silver Star at least.

But recently, Kirsten added everything Barry Manilow has ever done, including Gregorian chants, the little known Manilow/Johnny Rotten sessions, and a badly dubbed tape of Barry singing "The Itsy-Bitsy Spider" when he was three, to our library. So when I refreshed the iTunes shuffle list, I was shocked and terrified by what I saw.

Manilow. Everywhere! With grim determination, I began deleting him where ever he popped up. There! Between Crossroads and Hallowed Be Thy Name! Two more at the bottom of the screen! Aiiee!!

I really can't stand his music. So of course I married a Barry fanatic. It's a fair trade off, she can't stand Bob Dylan.

She's weird.

Another great rant for y'all

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