Well. It was easy keeping track of days because they matched up with the days of the month. Now we’re on a new month things are going to get… complicated. I imagine math might become involved if I miss a day or two.
In fact, I just put up my new calendar and I can see I have made an awful mistake: it’s white printed on a black background. Virtually impossible to write on. Now I’m not sure what to do: get a new calendar or use this computer-thingy that I can write nearly unlimited stuff on. There’s just this thing about being able to jot down stuff on a physical thing.
You’re all probably wondering about the egg I broke yesterday. You see, my mom had gotten me a ‘breakfast sandwich’ maker for Christmas (among a heap of other things). So, basically I can make my own Egg
McMuffins. And it’s great, because it’s small enough to fit on my counter full-time. Better yet, it works.
So I immediatly went out and bought a dozen eggs, two packs of Thomas’ English Muffins (I guess you could say I had some Bimbos over for breakfast), a thing of 16 Velveeta sliced cheese, and some off-brand breakfast sausage patties. I had just enough to make twelve breakfast sandwiches.
And then I dropped one of the eggs and that blew everything. I now can make English Muffins With Cheese and Sausage. Somehow, it’s not nearly as exciting (or, eggciting, if you were expecting it) as having a homemade Egg
Symbolically, I’m not quite sure what to make of this. The egg is, and has been, a symbol of fertility, life, and the Ressurection of Jesus. Is there some kind of omen attached to me dropping such a symbol onto the floor on the first day of a new year? In a way it would be better if it were an omen; not because it could be a warning of yet another year of being chaste, not because I’ve ruined the chance of kicking off The Second Coming of the Messiah, but because it’s a lot better than just thinking: Man… I sure made a mess.
I have made myself some hot cocoa. It came from a package but I made it with real milk. Why? Because why not, that’s why. It’s something I don’t do very often. Maybe once every ten years or so. Now I remember why that is. It’s a bit more involved than boiling water until the kettle whistles and then stirring it into a cup. Sure, it’s not a lot more trouble it’s just I have to make sure I don’t burn it. In my world, liquid has two states: not boiling and evaporated. It’s good for me to keep an eye on these things.
Every once in a while a song pops into my head and I have no idea why. It isn’t always a song I like. Sometimes it’s a song I’d completeliy forgotten about. Suddenly, and for no discernible reason that I can figure, it’s there in my head. Playing over and over.
Today it is this song:
I didn’t even know who performed it until I looked it up on YouTube. Back in the old days (when I listened to the radio) I used to keep WNBC playing while I slept. At the time it was a ‘Top 40’ station. I think. I could be wrong, but I think I have it right. Anyway, I kept a Top 40 station on while I slept. For whatever reason this song would end up playing just as I was falling asleep:
It’s funny how music and memories go together. Not as good as smells, maybe. I remember being happy, though, so that’s good. More so because they’re songs I’m not particularly attached to. Or maybe I am and that’s why they spring up in my head when I don’t expect it. At least I know who sang the song and who Lionel Richie is (it’s hard not to).
It’s weird, but after writing this I realized that I’ve regressed right back to the 1980s. Watching Cheers on Netflix, reading Bloom County, and watching videos of music from the 1980s. And you know what? You can always tell when a video was made in that decade. Always.