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Being an account of semioticrobotic's everyday life
Work's frenzied pace forced a hiatus from writing. But it's a holiday week now, and I'm unshackled from the strictures of a workday routine. Spent a good portion of the day in the living room, continuing setup. It's the last significant project I need to tackle before I can say I'm "moved in." Not bad for four months. The air conditioning was out yesterday, but luckily the tech could get here at 08:00 this morning to repair it. The culprit was my grandfather's miserly ingenuity; he'd blocked the HVAC intake with some extra insulation to prevent drafts in wintertime. Once removed, air flowed freely—and the house temperature finally dipped below 80 degrees.
An all-around average day at work, but a busier evening as Brent and I made a quick toy run before we celebrated Kaitlyn's birthday with pizza and ice cream. Then went to the local church league softball game. And on the way, Dad stopped to help me set up my newly painted and customized TV stand—that final major piece of furniture I need to really pull the house together. It's all going to look great. Continued to read for both my reading groups—Langer's *Feeling and Form* for the philosophy group, and Eghbal's *Working in Public* for the community building group. I'm hopelessly behind but really enjoying them both.
First "first date" in 20 years. To say I'm rusty would be an understatement (and a tired metaphor at that), so I won't say it. Instead I'll just confess to being somewhat daunted by the prospect, conspicuously inadequate. She deserves better than someone who comes with training wheels.
A day of spills. Spilled coffee on the new sofa first thing in the morning. Spilled oil while doing repairs in the garage. Spilled water across the floor from the dehumidifier when emptying the retainer. So that all set the tone for today and everything in-between—spillage and leaky boundaries, running from one messy puddle to another, dabbing at the edges, trying to contain the seepage. I was glad I could finally leave to meet Chris for ramen, the heartiest meal I've had in days. We looked at collectibles downtown and noted everything that once lived in our parents' basements.
Recovering from two-night stay in the hospital. GI issues again, identical in nearly every way to incident two years ago. No surgery this time (thank goodness). But plenty of discomfort and fear. Just so happy to be home. Spent the day doing light chores and housework to celebrate being able to stand and move freely. Small wins, little celebrations, significantly meaningful.
A dark and rainy one from start to finish, yet full of gratitude because the drought was becoming serious. The day was pretty Monday-ish, all told, but I did find a little extra time to begin work on the Closet Reorganization Initiative. Just taking stock of everything that's here—eveything I apparently deemed worthy of transporting from several states away—took about an hour. And I can already tell what's going to get tossed in the end.
Hailey turned 8 today, so we all gathered for a beautiful, sunny-day party at the local community pool (note to self: when told the kid's part is at the local watering hole, know that it is indeed at the large, local hole filled with water). I stay way longer than planned, but such is the nature of these things. Time spent like this—with family and friends and now their families—is the biggest upshot of post-move life. Then Mom and Dad and I watched the Phillies game at my place while installing Yet More Shelving. The Phillies won and so did we, because the shelves look great.
This evening's baseball game was rained out. Everyone regretted the missed opportunity but no one was really too upset to see our drought-riddled town receive some sustenance. We really did (and do) need it. So the evening consisted of driving into the city, jockying for a parking space, walking several blocks to the ballpark, locating family amidst the crowd, pushing through said crowd to find general admission seating, directing one another where to sit to maximize group space, and then promptly standing back up and running for cover when the skies opened up. My niece was surprisingly resilient, and asked me to hold her while we waiting under an awning for the downpour to return to drizzle. She jumped into my arms and we stood there, her tiny body limp and fragile in my arms, her face tucked into my right shoulder crevice, waiting for the rain to stop. I was suddenly hoping it never would.
Lots of writing, editing, and "content strategy" today—all generally ingredients for what I tend to consider a Good Day. So today was one of those. Accidentally slept late and wasn't sure why, but even with the bolt-upright, shotgun start the morning went smoothly. Went for a walk with Mom in the afternoon, and we didn't get too far before rainclouds rolled in and thunder quickened our pace. Still, despite the rush we got decent exercise (the storm amounted to very little—a disappointment for me, actually, because I'd been hoping for a strong Pennsylvania thunderstorm as soundtrack to reading and writing tonight). All the while, I'm making room for my new sofa and easy chair, centerpieces of my newly decorated living room, and preparing for a delivery of yet another set of shelves I can use to organize Nerd Stuff in my study. Every week, this place feels more like my house.
Not a bad Monday, as Mondays tend to go: writing, editing, community management—the triunverate. I even had a short window of opportunity to go for a run before settling back in for the company's quarterly earnings call. Refamiliarizing my body with the motions and demands of running took about two weeks but, finally, today I felt like I was acclimating again. Runs remain much shorter than I'd like (I still tire easily) but I can already tell I'm regaining capability.
All my writing energy has lately poured into my essay about Larry's early research and writing on the concept of "communication," so journaling took a back seat during the Memorial Day holiday. I was off from work for five days; it was glorious. Friends, family, food, and furniture (I build and organized more around the house). I worked in the morning, then left around lunchtime to run errands and grab a bite at the sandwich shop. Local school districts must have either had a half day or had already closed for summer, because many of today's lunch-hour clientele were kids. A young girl came inside with her mother, clutching tiny stuffed toys and chatting with anyone who'd listen. While her mother waited for sandwiches, the girl plopped herself on the stool next to me at the counter and wasted not a second telling me all about what she was going to eat (ham sandwich), what she was going to do next (catch minnows in the creek), and what she planned to do that evening (swim in the family pool with her uncle and cousins). How easy she made it all seem. Three other kids threw open the front door after dumping their bikes in the front lawn. An older girl (likely 12 or 13) was clearly in charge of the younger two (8? 10?), who scuttled about pulling bags of potato chips from the racks, lolipops from the displays, and ice cream from the freezer. I imagined myself and my friends at that age, doing something similar, recalling that feeling of empowerment and freedom the wamrth of the summer always seemed to bestow. Afternoon adventures never in short supply. I quietly munched my sandwich as my own childhood friend worked the cash register, ringing up the torrent of hungry customers who breezed through the shop, taking the kids' chicken nuggets order. That was us one day.
Today was the kind of day remote work boosters obsess about. Woke early so I could check for work emergencies before heading to Brent's house, where I drove with him to drop Addie at school. Then we hit the flea market, where I hadn't been for probably a decade (picked up Monopoly for the NES and a still-sealed Rush record). Lots of new things to see. Even more had simply stayed the same. After lunch at the shop, I came home, took a shower, and started my work day around 13:00. Broke at 17:00 to set up my stereo, had dinner, worked more, and just decided to wrap at 20:30. Mom and Dad just stopped with a takeout meal from West Lawn Wednesday so I had some lunch tomorrow. To celebrate the final community dinner of the season, Mr. Hong made fried rice. I'll be eating it for days. So happy.
Brisk one today, but I welcomed that. Editing in the morning, then a meeting, then lunch, then more editing and program management before a walk around the neighborhood with Mom. We ran into Diane, who revealed she'd "rescued" Oma and Opa's garden sundial from my trash pile this weekend. Just got off a 90-minute Zoom call with Greg, trying to help him recover files lost from iCloud drive several months ago. What a mess—a cogent reminder of why I ditched Apple nearly two decades ago. Tonight I'll probably do the dishes, pour another Reading lager, then finish reading for group tomorrow.
My first thought on waking this morning was that I was about to begin a shortened, holiday week—which can only mean that it's going to feel like an incredibly protracted, interminable, three-weeks-in-three-days work week. Everyone canceled their morning meetings with me (no complaints), so it turned rather quickly into a productive time. Lunch was leftover Ranch House chicken cheesesteak. Throughout the day I took stretch breaks and worked on slowly filling my newly mounted cassette racks. My nearly 400-tape collection is now on the wall, looking sharp. After a decent run and a show, I'm ready to pack it in.
Mom and Dad visited this afternoon. Mom watched the Phillies game while Dad and I hung some vintage cassette tape racks for which I was scouring eBay not long ago. (They look great.) Joey even stopped by. It was one of those amorphous, come-what-may kind of Sundays without pretense or scaffolding that just feels good every now and again. We capped off the evening with a trip to the Ranch House, arriving at 16:45 in perfect Berks County fashion, where I could buy Dad dinner and ice cream as small thanks for his afternoon of work.
A full day at home was quite a luxury today. Cleaned and sorted my new cassette tape racks, installed a new shower head, put my tabletop vinyl record holder together, unpacked boxes, cleaned the laundry room, shined the kitchen floor, and went for a run when it was all over. After a shower (under the new hardware, natch), the best part of the day began: I poured a pint of light, Reading-made lager, turned on some ambient electronic music, and sat in my easy chair, reading beside the open window in my study. For about an hour, I was completely content, at peace, settled. The buzzing of the towels finishing in the washing machine changed that.
Finally finished the entire, laborious process of registering my car in the state of Pennsylvania. Four stages of work spread across several weeks. What a hassle. But it's done now—just in time for me to buy an electric bicycle. Apart from today's walk to the mechanic, the day was a fairly uneventful, straightforward work day that involved the usual interviewing, reading, and writing. A box of books sits on my porch now, waiting for me, and tonight I think I'd rather read more than write.
Such a bright day. Woke early to call Laura and catch up. I'd missed talking to her. Worked through the morning, then met with Michelle to discuss finances for the first time in more than a year. Afternoon meetings, and it was time for desk work before Boehringer's with the family. It was the perfect pre-Memorial Day evening.
Not necessarily the day I wanted (lots of housework), but definitely the day I needed. A lighter meeting schedule meant that I had more flexibility (so I used it to wash socks?). Brent and I could even go see Joey at the shop for lunch. And I shipped my North Carolina license plate back to the NC DMV. It was a slightly emotional moment for me, seeing that plate (which I remember so vividly getting) being packed up and shipped out. North Carolina—the place and the idea—held so much promise, so much potential. That "new chapter" vibe was so strong, so exciting. Now that I've returned, the new chapter vibe feels different—a muted hopefulness instead of anticipation full to bursting.
Awoke to a crew outside, tearing up the street in front of my house to prepare for gas line installation. They started at 07:00 and were finished by 16:00. Unreal. A lighter day at work meant I also had time to run to the notary and (finally) get my car registered in-state. So two of the three arduous phases of work to bring an automobile into Pennsylvania are now complete. Walked with Mom around the neighborhood in the evening, past the schoolyard playground where I once played as a first-grader. A cool breeze swept across the block tonight, making it feel like an afterschool day from childhood, too.
Day began in a bit of a frenzy because one of my authored blog posts went live this morning, and despite all efforts editors still needed last-minute changes. So "morning work" didn't begin until after lunch, for which I ordered a pizza. Also went out for a run this evening, for the first time in uncounted months. While folding laundry, a songstress said she and the object of her lyrical musings were "compatible like the same two sides of Velcro," a statement that just kept getting more poignant the more I thought about it. Maybe I was just really hungry.
Slept late today, reluctant to expose myself to the morning's chill. Organized my books, then set up my new TV. Cleaned my bedroom and my bathroom for the first time since moving in, then spent Mother's Day with Mom, volunteering at the homeless shelter. Initialized booklog. Initialized lifelog.