Sanity checks

As much as marxdarx and I sometimes aggravate each other, there is one crucial thing we do for each other. When we're having one-on-one time, we can cross-check each other on everything from esoteric theory to household operations. This is invaluable. A household of three primary members where communication is passed through a central member to the two end members can destabilize, not to mention, there isn't as much communications diversity, and the two end members won't have an opportunity to communicate on projects that the middle member has no interest in.

This evening, I stripped wire for marxdarx, accomplishing in under a minute what he takes an hour to do. (I used pliers and a good solid yank. He used a slicer-tool and a lot of time and patience. I was immediately dubbed his official stripper.) We compared notes on Clover's husband the Fearless Leader: I can't stand him because he comes off as an arrogant prick; Marx, having gotten the opportunity to know him better, reports that this is quite a bit in part because he's self-confident because he does know all the things he thinks he knows. I had my suspicions confirmed on a piece of ancient history. We vented frustration together at the difficulty of getting a wiggly eight-year-old boy to sit still long enough to read aloud for fifteen minutes at a time. (Maybe I'll have a chance to help out with that, maybe not.)

He was my co-pilot tonight on the dinner run and the shopping excursion to get banana bread ingredients and other minor household necessities. I still drive better with someone else along to make sure I haven't missed anything, especially when I drive at night. It was nice. He was running on automatic, because we were out late, but we both got safely home with all the groceries and household supplies.

Hooray for sanity checks.

Phone Messages

Picked up the phone this evening when it rang. It was someone wanting to speak to Sis.

"She's not available right now, can I take a message?" I asked, smoothly and professionally.

"Yes, tell her to call $MALE_NAME," the guy said, managing to convey that it was not optional that I do the telling, and not optional that Sis do the calling back, immediately when she became available.

"Which $MALE_NAME?" I asked, understandably confused. There are at least two of them in current contact with the household: "The" $MALE_NAME (Fearless Leader), and then Whiny Pudgy Pagan Geekboy, along with gods know which other strays Sis may have picked up.

"You know which one," the unidentifiable male told me, still with that obnoxious snotty tone in his voice.

"Actually, no," I said, still with the professional on my voice, but gaining a sharp edge that those who know me know not to fuck with. "There are at least two $MALE_NAMEs that she knows."

At this point he decided to actually identify himself, as the Whiny Pudgy Pagan Geekboy (for certain values of "boy" where "boy" > 30 chronological years), and further commented that I had to know who he was, because he'd visited a few times. (He has. I haven't been impressed.)

We got off the phone quickly. marxdarx, who'd been late grabbing the phone, wanted to know who it had been.

"$MALE_NAME," I said.

"Which one?" he asked.

Vindication.

Sis got home zonked from work, and then we went out to run errands -- I don't think either of us has remembered to tell her that Mr. Obnoxious Whiny Pudgy Pagan Geekboy called. Not that that'll make much of a difference in her callback timing.

Johnny Ramone is dead.

Johnny Ramone died Wednesday, September 15, 2004.

Gmail Issues

Evidently everyone and their little brother's boyfriend is having problems with sending with Gmail. So it's not just you.