the 38th week

a misty morning in cincinnati

Monday. Another warm day, albeit rainy. Amos rode in with me: he's going in for a couple "full days" this week to get a better feel for how 600 operates as a whole, since he'll be Store Manager here in a hot minute. I went to The Anchor after work to do some reading with coffee and O.J., and back home I shaved my (pathetic excuse of a) beard. I like it better clean-shaven. Brandy, John and Isaac came over for our usual Monday shenanigans. Blake made chicken in the crock-pot, Andy served ice cream and chocolate chip brownies, and we watched The Walking Dead. Things quieted down and I watched Pineapple Express with the housemates before going to bed.

Tuesday. I only slept a few hours last night, but coffee at The Anchor cleared that up right quick. It was a beautiful day in the 70s, so we were pretty slow at work and out a decent time. Amos and I smoked hookah on the back porch when we got home. Ams came home and Josh trailed not far behind, and I hung out with them and played video games with Amos till the dead calm of night.

Amanda's 23rd Birthday! Work was good. Sarah Gagen and Brittany Camp from C.C.U. came in, and I made them coffee and Sarah and I caught up. A blast from the past, just like the old Hilltop days. When I got home Ams and I sat out on the back porch reading books and painting rocks in the warm sunlight. At 6:00 we met up with Amos & Andy (like the TV show, just not racist) for dinner and beers at Rock Bottom. The entire bill was knocked down to $25, which we covered with a gift certificate. I'm pretty sure Mitch did that on purpose, since (a) he knew we had the $25 gift cards since he gave them to us, and (b) the manager on duty didn't like to comp meals. And so Mitch made sure to hook us up like he always does. It's a symbiotic relationship. 

Thursday. I went to The Anchor before work, started reading Christopher Hitchens' God is Not Great. I hope it'll be better than Dawkins' book.As I left the diner a grueling storm came through, throwing about golf-ball-sized hail and dousing the city in hammering sheets of rain. The trees threatened to snap under the weight of the wind, and the thunder was the kind that resonates like drums behind your ribs. The highway was a hot mess: not once but twice my car almost stalled with rainwater puddling up to the headlights. No exaggeration. And the Sexy & I Know It song by LMFAO was playing the whole time, and I'll be honest: I kinda liked it. But not as much as the Explosions in the Sky we had playing at work. When we got home--late, around 7:00, thanks to a busy day--we hung out with Ams and Andy, playing Black Ops and watching Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls.

Friday. I like waking up to the birds chirping before my alarm goes off. Spring? Could it be? I'm daring to hope so. If the cold weather has passed, that makes... 15?... days of actual cold, wintry weather this winter. It's too good be true, so I'm holding my breath. After work I fell asleep to Wilco's "Sunken Treasure" and woke to Old Crow Medicine Show's "Wagon Wheel." Not a bad circuit at all. All the housemates went out to The Anchor for coffee, cigarettes, and dinner. Andy played C.C.R. on the jukebox, and I followed them up with Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On" (you know, from Titanic) and Faith Hill's "Breathe" (you know, from Faith Hill). I redeemed myself because they had, quite surprisingly, Damien Jurado! "Ohio" came on, and we sang aloud and the hipsters in the next booth over couldn't tear their eyes from us, and the looks on their faces conveyed anything but benevolent congeniality. No real concern: no one really cares what hipsters have to say. The whole movement (if we can call it that) is one marked by contradictions and superficiality. 

Saturday. I continued plowing through Christopher Hitchens' God is Not Great at The Anchor: far better than Dawkins' The God Delusion, I'm actually feeling challenged, and I like that. No Dusmesh this afternoon: I went up to Dayton for Jesse and Mandy's baby shower. On the way there I got mixed up with a funeral procession, and an obnoxious driver who wouldn't stop tailgating and honking at me got pulled over not five miles down the road. Dad, Jared and I spent most of the party in the corner kitchen, munching on goodies and making inappropriate jokes. "He thinks he can make those jokes now that he's not an elder," Mom pouted. We made a fire in the backyard and roasted hot dogs and drank beer, and I wrestled with the dogs (and have some ghastly marks to prove it). Mom and I ran to her school to get a VHS player, and she lamented all the drama happening on her side of the family. I'm thankful to be all but wholly removed from all that. Back in Cincinnati I spent the evening hanging out with Blake, Andy and Amos, reading more of God is Not Great, and listening to music on the front porch. Oh: Mandy and I got to Skype for a while, it was really good.

Sunday. I slept in till 10:00, then ran a ton of errands before grabbing a solo lunch at Dusmesh (since I missed it yesterday). Blake grilled up some burgers and hot dogs come dinnertime, and Andy made beans, and we polished it all off with gooey chocolate chip brownies courtesy of The Waugh. We lit the hookah and played Black Ops, and I called it a night early, in bed by 11:00.