Old School Web-log Post

Got up early today (for a Saturday) to go to what was probably the most important meeting of my short life. We may have made the right decision, but I don't think any of us feel good about it.

When we got back, I was keen to take advantage of 75-cent laundry day. It's a Christmas present from the apartment management. They've been putting out little gestures of kindness for the last several months, probably to soften the blow of impending measures to squeeze more money out of us. The latest plan is to start charging us for utilities, but according to the letter the management sent, it's to help the environment. So I guess that makes it all right.

Mrs. Chaka had to go to a cookie-decorating party, so she left the laundry in my hands. Regular readers will remember that these hands have been shown to be less than capable, so it was a risk on her part. I made it through without disaster, though, possibly because our only remaining expensive electronic items are too large to fit in pants pockets. Between trips to the laundry room, I got a recipe for pie crust, tracked down some more addresses for the Christmas card mailing, and did some German flashcards on my Palm.

Mrs. Chaka had told me last week that all she wanted for Christmas was for me to clean the bathtub, so I knocked that out; now I don't have to buy her anything. That's a relief, since I had no idea what to buy her.

I kid, I kid.

I've discovered that Sound Opinions makes an excellent companion to Saturday afternoon chores and errands. I also listened to an episode of Fibber McGee and Molly from Dec. 19, 1941. (on the Those Were the Days radio program). There was a little topical humor:

A: You know why Hitler gives all his addresses in Beer Gardens?
B: No why?
A: So that when he starts foaming at the mouth, nobody can tell!

Not a great joke, but it got the biggest laugh of the show.

What's odd about those radio shows is how stationary they are. The whole show takes place in one scene, in one room. Characters walk on, tell exactly five jokes, and walk off. Half of the jokes are in stories that people are telling about things that happened offstage.

Mrs. Chaka returned in the afternoon, concealing my Christmas present and nursing an upset stomach. She's been out of commission for the rest of the day. We concluded that the anxiety of the morning meeting may have done it to her. At least, we're hoping it's that and not some virus that will now be spread throughout the Western suburbs via a vector of Christmas cookies.

I catalogued some books for the library that a friend is planning to found in Liberia. We passed the 1,000-volume mark with a commentary on Revelation from Inter-Varsity Press (this volume was published by the British version, which uses the hyphen, unlike its CamelCased American cousin).

Then it was dinner, a comfort movie for my ailing wife (which featured Ann Paul Veal!), and writing this.