The Exploits of a TurboGeek!

Hi There,

Happy Halloween to you!  This entry is hard to write, since there are tiny little kinder coming to my door every five minutes yelling “Suss oder Sauer!” That’s the German equivalent of “Trick or Treat” and literally translates to “Sweet or Sour”.  Which makes about as much sense as Trick or Treat.

This is the first time I’ve actually had kids coming by for candy.  Every Halloween since I left the nest for College, I have been out and about, or in a neighborhood where kids weren’t encouraged to wander the night asking strangers for candy… I kind of don’t know what to do.  I figured out the candy giving part, that was easy.

I don’t really know how to give costume compliments in German.  I can just say “Pretty.”  Not the best word.  I should learn “Scary” and “Funny”.  Google will help me!  BRB…

Furchtsam!  Lustig!  Scary and Funny.  Now I am well armed.  But all the kids coming here are talking English now.

I guess that means they aren’t the same kids as before in different costumes…  Unless they’re really playing with my head.  And that’s another thing.  I kind of wish I had a chance to go scouting and see what sort of candy the neighbors are giving out.   I want to know how I am faring in the whole treat-giving spectrum.  If I’m giving out better than average candy, I hope that translates to fewer egg and shaving cream incidents in my yard.

Hmmm.  Maybe I should go under cover.  Only, then there will be no one here to give out candy.  I’m stuck.  I can’t not give candy else I’ll have no good candy giver credit, but I can’t find out if I’m a good enough candy giver without scoping the competition.  I could ask one of these little fiends walking around who’s giving the best candy, but who can trust a candy fiend?

In any case, I get one candy bar for ever trick or treat incident, so I don’t really mind.  I’ll be all hopped up shortly, and I won’t have a care in the world.

Hi There,

Today, is laundry day.  For some reason when I say that to myself, in my head, I hear “Laundry Day” as if sung to “Closing Time”…

It’s laundry day, gather all your duds and make your way to the ‘mat.

It’s laundry day, sort your colors, warms, colds and all that.

It’s laundry day, you can’t wash what you’re wearing, since you can’t strip here…

Yes, it is laundry day.  You know what this means?  My stupid waschtrockner is still broke.  It neither washes nor trockens at this point.  This is good, in a way.  It is now failing reliably, and it failed repeatedly when the repair guy was here.  The bad news is that he thinks he can fix it, so I’m not free of it yet.  Maybe he will fix it, then I’ll be glad again. Well, gladder.  For now, I am using the base laundering facilities, and this has some interesting side effects.

First off, for as many years as I can recall, I’ve wanted my own laundry machine(s).  I don’t like having to schlep all my stuff to the ‘mat, and I am always vaguely paranoid about losing stuff there.  My socks could make a great escape in a big laundry mall.  Perhaps they are behind my faulty trockner…  I’ll have to do some interrogation.  By “interrogation” I actually mean “torture”.  It is hard to figure out how I’d go about torturing a garment that spends so much time sandwiched between my foot and my shoe.  What could be worse than that? Perhaps I’ll have to play the “good cop” role…

Anyway, I have to confess that I somewhat like going to the laundr-o-mat.  No, I haven’t found one of those ‘mat’s where the ladies strip to their undies when they was everything, but that would be cool.  What I like is the sense that just about everything I own will be clean.  It is kind of like a fresh start.  I am encouraged to wash all my big bulky stuff, like comforters and blankets since they have big dryers there.  I have to hang out and wait for my stuff to dry, so my clothes are nice and warm when I retrieve them.  I get everything folded and then hung up when I get home.  It is a nice feeling.

The bummer is that most stuff ends up not very wrinkled at all, and many people at work have accused me of ironing, or secretly hiring someone to iron for me, which I resent.  I’m all about entropy, and a nicely wrinkled shirt says that I’m in favor of not wasting energy to prevent something that is both inevitable and pointless to worry about.

The other nice thing about laundry day is it is one of those days when you get to be a bit selfish, and do something good for yourself.  No one argues with laundry day.  They might argue with you using a shower as a reason not to hang out, since a shower shouldn’t take so long.  If you want to clean your apartment, they’ll just tell you to do it later, it isn’t like they have to put up with your filth.  Grimy clothes…  They don’t even want to be seen with you (wrinkly too!).   Taxes?  That one actually works, but maybe once a year.

Laundry day is a day I get to focus on myself, doing something simple that makes me happy (and presentable).  I find it deeply relaxing.  Surprisingly so.  So much so that every time I am singing my laundry day song to myself, thinking I should blog this, I end up not writing anything because I’m in a happy place and I don’t want to go through the hassle of proof-reading a blog entry.

Which is why I’m writing this entry before I do my laundry.  I might, as a socio-scientific experiment, rewrite this entry after laundry day has transpired.  Then we’ll see how my mood affects my writing.  But, I’ll probably be caught up in the serenity I find at the laundromat, and just not bother.  I look forward to that peace.  Join me in it…  Unless the mood is due to the fumes at the laundromat, in which case, stop breathing my air!