We watch a lot of Investigation Discovery, which we call “The Murder Channel” for its rotation of salacious true-crime shows. Hour after hour, unfaithful spouses and children a little too anxious for their inheritances slaughter their way into or living room.
So when an insurance commercial came on, my mind translated it into another murderous re-enactment. The “concerned” daughters pressure their mom — vulnerable due to her husband’s recent accident — to get insurance, ostensibly just to “help with final arrangements”. Uh-huh. We’re onto you two. What is it? Gambling debts? Or just a sense of frustration at not having all of the fancy things you want? Either way, you’re guilty!
Honestly, I really can’t believe that anyone would put that commercial on the murder channel thinking it would play to normal sentimentalities…
The local news tonight reported that the police are looking for a pair of thieves who broke into three fast food joints on Christmas. I expressly don’t say they robbed the restaurants, as only the second one actually had a little money in it. There’s footage of the would-be burglars, and it seems likely that they’ll be picked up soon.
Honestly I’m most amazed that they thought there’d be any money, let alone enough to make it worth the risk.
My Impression of the Planning Stage of the Crime Spree
Doof #1: “Hey! Mickey D’s will be closed on Christmas! Like, nobody will be there! Now’s our chance!”
Doof #2: “Wouldn’t they have taken most of the money to the bank after closing the night before?”
Doof #1: “Listen to me! No one will be there! It’ll be a cinch!”
Doof #2: “Do you think they have video surveillance?”
Doof #1: “Everyone will be home! It’s like they’re inviting us in!”
Shortly after our Christmas tree went up, it became clear that decorations — even non-breakable ones — were out of the question this year. The three kittens swarmed its limbs before we could even finish adjusting them, and when the adult cats tried to follow there was no hope of keeping a nice shape.
After two kittens (Dmitri and Ripley) went to their new home, Fischer continued to use the tree as his personal playground. We’d be watching TV and see the tree shake in tiny bursts of kitteny fun.
The important thing to know about the tree is that it’s pre-lit. There are three strings of lights wound through the sections of it. Being a worrier I was concerned about this, but Fischer seemed able to avoid getting tangled on the wires.
Until of course he actually did get tangled in the wires.
He made an extremely distraught ornament, hanging there from his back leg, and it took both of us to remove him — one to hold him and one to cut the lights.
Fischer’s okay, but the tree has clearly been played out. It’s in the garage awaiting final justice.
I stayed home last week, intending to do housework, organize some of my hoarded entertainments, and generally be happily not at work. Instead I mostly sat on the coach, hating myself for being a failure of a Makie.
Four days into this, I finally recognized that I was again exhibiting signs of a downward spiral.
As I further reflected, I also realized that at some point I’d allowed my entire self-image to revolve around work. No matter what I did on my own time, I felt no sense of pride or accomplishment anymore.
That’s just stupid.
So I decided to do something — something new — just to be able to point to it and say “I did that!” I’ve been wanting to do a comic strip for years now, but I knew I’d need some references in order to turn out the artwork with any speed and consistency. So I downloaded a 3D modeling program (without knowing the first thing about making models) and whipped up a model of a cartoony angel.
“I did that!”
It still took until well into this week to start feeling at all better, but damned if I’m not pleased with myself for having put together a clumsy, unarticulated model!