Why I’m Running the Air Conditioner Right Now

So Monday during my work-at-home shift, there was a knock at my door. It was building maintenance. They wanted access to my heat so they could flush it out. The way the heat works in our building apparently is it runs from one end of the building to the other, so if there’s a clog anywhere in the thing, then nobody gets heat. They’ve had to do this before a few years ago. So I donned a mask and let them in.

The problem is that now the heat works. It works no matter how I have the thermostat set. It is currently set to 0, but the heat still is on strong. It’s not the thermostat because that was replaced. It’s just the way the heat works. Mi calor, tu calor.

So, why don’t you just open a window, you say. Well, I’d love to do that. Let in some of that beautiful crisp fall air! That would be lovely. Except there is an industrial construction project on the lot across the way, and it is the most noise one could imagine, especially when the dump trucks clang their buckets around. I tried the open window thing one day this week. The air was wonderful. The noise made me want to murder.

Nope, the windows have to stay shut, but that means I’m running the air conditioner the week of Samhain. It’s ridiculous.

While I’m complaining: Can ya’ll leave your strong scents at home and not bathe in them before you go to the store? You smell fine. But your use of toxic smelly stuff was hard enough to manage before the plague. Now we’re all walking around with our snouts covered. That makes it even worse. Stop it.

There, I said it.

And now, a public service announcement from Record Archive here in Rochester. Sad news.

Record Archive will be closed for the next few days. We have had one staff member who tested positive for COVID-19 as of Thursday morning. We are having all staff get tested for COVID-19.

Please follow us on social media for reopening updates. Please feel free to reach out if you have any questions or concerns.

As everyone’s health is our number one priority we have chosen to close temporarily to clean and sanitize our store to provide a safe environment for all that enter these doors.

We are having our entire 13,000 square foot space fumigated today.

If you’ve visited the Record Archive during the following times you may have been exposed to COVID-19. Please contact your health care provider for guidance.

10/24 2pm – 6pm
10/26 11am – 7pm
10/27 11am – 7pm
10/28 10am – 12pm

We are in contact with the Health Department and are following their recommendations as well as our own safety plan.

We take the health and safety of our employees and community very seriously. We have been diligently following the guidelines since reopening and will continue to do so.

– Record Archive

This Is Us, Season Five, Episode One (Spoiler Ahead)

I am about to write a little notion about the season premiere of NBC’s This Is Us, which aired last evening. If you are the rare viewer of this fine television program who hasn’t gobbled up every second already, stop reading. I’m about to put forward a theory, and it’s going to reveal a major happening on the show.

You good? Okay. Here I go.

So. She’s alive. Randall’s mother survived her overdose. I imagine her future at that point involves challenges. Perhaps some time in the slam. Maybe rehab. Weird to imagine that she ever sees William again, or maybe by then he’s moved on to Jesse. Regardless, we’re focused here on Randall’s birth mother, Laurel.

Because often, people who go through rehab decide to help others with similar issues. I’m thinking Laurel moves on to become a therapist at some point.

So now, Randall has fired Dr. Leigh due to the realization that there is an entire trove of issues he can’t talk to a white therapist about.

Do you see where I’m going here?

I say Randall is about to get referred to Dr. Laurel for therapy.

Dude will be in a rubber room by the end of the season.

14 Days

Toby Ziegler believed in magic.

White House Communications Director for fictional President Josiah Bartlet, Ziegler says he has written two speeches on election night. “I’ve got a speech if he wins. I’ve got a speech if he doesn’t,” he says. Despite apparently legendary poll numbers for Bartlet, Ziegler obsessively insists he won’t “tempt the wrath of whatever from high atop the thing.” Josh Lyman joins the meeting and, upon learning that Deputy White House Communications Director Sam Seaborn has somewhat mocked this, Lyman agrees with Ziegler’s prescription: Seaborn must go outside, turn around three times, and spit. Or curse. We’re not sure which.

I sure am glad I ain’t Toby Ziegler.

I’ve been saying “landslide” for a while now. When I say it out loud to other human beings, sometimes they make that same Toby Ziegler superstitious face, and I prepare for them to insist that I get myself outside to do some sort of skyclad ritual in order to please the whatever from high atop the thing. Don’t get complacent, says they. We can’t be complacent. Complacency. That stuff’s a killer.

And they’re not wrong. Whatever label you stick on your forehead, be it “liberal,” “progressive,” “Democrat,” “socialist,” “radical,” or “Abbie Hoffman,” no, we can’t be complacent. We can never be complacent. But I’m not being complacent. I’m being confident.

My voting plan is to awake early(ish) Saturday morning, the first day for early in-person voting in New York, and to traverse to the local mall that is .25 miles from my home, and to vote. From the looks of the reporting, many other Americans have made and stuck to voting plans around the nation. Look, NPR said so.

There are many reasons I think it’s wise for Democratic voters to shake off the putrid shade of PTSD that afflicts from 2016. This is a different year. It is a different election. Our nominee is running a great campaign. He chose a rock star running mate. Even the polling averages are looking good for Democrats. And the opposition, Impeached Preznit Carnage G. Fuckhead Not A Real Billionaire, keeps finding and triggering all the shit-packed frog-mines in his path. (I have many other reasons but am trying to write succinctly.)

Of course don’t be complacent. But please, find some confidence to wear in your hat. Stow at least some of that dread and loathing under your seat. Like my man James Carville used to say, we’re right. They’re wrong. And if Impeached Dear Leader Dances Like Elaine Benes has been good for something, he’s been good at demonstrating just how right we are. People are aware. And they are showing up.

::whispers:: landslide!

Now. Go vote. And let your little light shine.

Wish in one hand…

I told him to wish in one hand and shit in the other. Then I said

“So it’s better if you squat a bit while you’re shitting into your hand. Maybe sitting on the toilet while the seat is up might help but it is not comfortable. You could squat over the side of the bathtub maybe. I guess you’ll just have to improvise. Maybe outside? Find a nice playground or picnic area? I want shit under those nails, young man. Pronto.”

I don’t like this FB group very much anyway.