Summer’s Unofficial Beginning

Later this weekend, I will be making my first blog entry using my new computer, the Hewlett-Packard DV6-2152NR Entertainment Notebook PC.  But for now, I’m using one of the computers at the library, since the office isn’t 100% clean (a little superstitious on my part–I wanted the new computer to be in a nice setting, at least at first), plus I was too damn exhausted last night to type an entry that resembled English.

The true sign of summer’s arrival here in Clintonville is that Olympic Swim and Racquet Club opened its summer season at noon today.  They’ve been teasing us for weeks, with the

MAY 29
sign on their parking lot marquee.  Susie and many other neighborhood kids were acting like they were counting down to Christmas morning, counting down the days to May 29 (It was significant for me because JFK would have been 94 today).  Susie has a busy weekend.  She’ll spend much time at poolside, I’m sure, but she’s feeding cats for a friend who is out of town for the entire weekend, so she and I go to that friend’s apartment at least once a day.
I had less than three hours of sleep Thursday night-Friday morning, and would have called in sick to work yesterday were it not on the eve of a long weekend.  (If you’re sick on the Friday or Monday of a three-day weekend, you need to provide a doctor’s excuse for those days.  Too many people were “falling ill” on days that would “coincidentally” make a longer weekend.)  I was on a sudden jag to clean the office and make it much more presentable than it has been in months, mainly because of the new computer’s imminent arrival, and also because I was looking for a patchcord I know is buried amidst the scatter of notes, papers, CDs, and mail that coat my desk and every other flat surface in the office.  (The office is half public library, half town dump.)
This presented Steph with the quandary familiar to every bipolar person’s spouse.  What do you do when the person’s in some kind of manic episode, but he/she is cleaning because of it?  (I guess it’s like the man who tells his psychiatrist that his aunt thinks she’s a chicken.  “How long has this been going on?”  “About six weeks.”  “Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”  “We needed the eggs.”)  I had been to the dentist earlier in the evening, and may still have been flying on the residual effects of nitrous oxide, of which I had ingested plenty during the cleaning and filling process.
A new Kodak digital camera came with the computer, and I will be using it to take pictures from now on.  I’m sure the quality will be better than the grainy ones I took at the OSU/AXE Undie Run earlier this month, especially since I have fresh batteries in this new camera.  I haven’t christened the camera yet, although I have loaded the software to the new computer.
My workout for today is just about to happen.  The library is closing in 15 minutes (and they let you know–repeatedly–over the loudspeaker if you’re not remembering this), and while walking here from Olympic, I saw a perfectly good La-Z-Boy recliner at curbside at a house on Fallis Rd. (save your sneering–it rhymes with Wallace).  I plan to carry it home, all 1.8 miles.  I’ll carry it on my head, like a big football helmet.
Once I get it home, then I’ll figure out if there’s a place to put it.