GETTING AUTO WITH IT

4:05

Auto what?:

It was Sunday, the day of rest. A day when I usually have either band practice or a scheduled social activity, but this time I had neither. Instead I:

• Spied on the neigbors.
• Washed my clothes, washer wore my undies.
• Thought about Ms X.

  Spying on the neighbors is great fun. Brett started it. I was making a mint-chip shake and he started talking about a girl across the street. I noted that this could be considered creepy and stalkerly, but he assured me that it was much more wholesome than watching webcams. I disagree, because people on webcams are offering, whereas surreptitiously watching someone through their window is more like taking without permission. It was weird to see someone awake at 2 am with all the lights on and windows and blinds open. Then these other two people arrived. A scruffy-chinned guy downstairs started some sort of morning arm-flailing routine. We wondered if they could hear us talking about them. We could hear it when the girl moved things inside her refrigerator, so chances are pretty good that they heard us. I got kind of weirded out and accused Brett of being a stalker, but he insisted there was nothing wrong with it. Of course, I was sitting there watching with him the entire time. At no time was there the threat or reality of nudity, indecent behavior, or even absent-minded nose-picking. Well, maybe that last. I don't really have time to watch the neighbors, I'll file this under "transient guilty pleasures".

  Washing my clothes wasn't really necessary, but I have a wrist-rest cover that desperately needs the root-beer residue cleaned out of it, so I found some socks and undies that I could wash with it. When the water drained out and the agitator stopped, I found my (black watch) plaid boxers stretched around the central rotor as if it were a one legged-manniquin. It took a few confused moments for me to realize that this was the case. When has the washer ever tried my clothes on before?

  Ms. X is who I think of all day when I'm not engaged in problem solving. This may be a traditionally bad idea, long distance and all, but we've met several times in the past. I don't like writing about current relationships because of the doppelganger effect, but in this case, I feel like I've found an especially good thing which should resist ghosts, cosmic rays, and evil people. Is it a good idea to start something so soon after the last breakup? And so soon after what seems like the only emotional trauma I've ever experienced? Well, yes. I have a clear head, I know what I feel like, and the pain is like the black foil against which the jewel is set. Or maybe it's like the dissonance and tension before the resolution in music. Or it could be like the suffocating meringue over the tangy lemon pie. The shapeless sweater over the black lingerie. Or maybe like the dumb scene with R2D2 and yoda before everyone gets tortured in Star Wars 2. Anyhow. Hard to not talk about it. Bubbling over. Mmp.

  Come to think of it, R2-D2 was at least as much of a hero as Luke. From the subtle enticement of Luke to find Obi-Wan to the machine-language omniscience which saves pretty much everyone on the good team, R2-D2 is really quite integral to the eventual success of the rebel effort. There wouldn't be much leadership left after Luke, Han, and Leia went through an unstopped garbage masher. I'm definately getting an R2-D2 when they come out. Maybe I'll help make them.

  
  I only eat one thing at work