Alan took today off to change his driver’s license to my (our) address and open a bank account with a bank which has actual, you know, branches instead of one location 50 feet from his apartment, stuff like that. We’re supposed to get an ice storm/wintery mix this weekend so he’s also going to make a grocery run. He’s called a time or two to ask what I’d like for dinner, what snackage needs to be obtained, etc. It’s so very, very nice to have someone out there running my errands! I wish that could be his job, but as I rather suspect I won’t be able to support us both in the style to which I intend to become accustomed, I guess he shouldn’t quit his day job.

About that grocery run: he’s buying normal stuff like we usually eat, but I don’t understand why, every time an ice storm is predicted, people rush out to buy milk and bread. I guess the bread is for sandwiches in case the power goes out, but if the power is out, doesn’t the milk spoil? Not to mention the lunch meat required for the sandwiches, which you never see people buying...you don’t see mass peanut-butter purchases either, just the bread. You’d think people would rush out to buy firewood. He’s not buying wood today, though; we have plenty of that already because I like a fire in the fireplace on cold evenings.

Another popular item is snow shovels - whenever a storm is nigh, you see couples by the score leaving Home Despot and Lowe’s with snow shovels. I can understand buying one, because no more often than it snows/sleets/ices over around here, it’s not the first item on the agenda for a new household, but why do people keep having to buy them? After the first freeze warning and the first snow shovel purchase, wouldn’t you be set? They don’t exactly wear out...well, maybe they do, but not in Atlanta.

I have to close because The Boss is summoning me. I don't want to go, as I'm quite angry at him (because he persists in exposing me to the most toxic cow-orker imaginable). I'm not worried about getting fired for writing this, a la Dooce, because he has been made very well aware that I'm angry, and why (in fact, much of the building is aware that I'm angry). All are in awe of my impressive vocabulary. It isn't often you hear someone utter the phrase "unreasonable fuckwittage of thaumaturgic proportion" especially in conjunction with "douchebag gnome" but The Boss heard those and a few choice others. He's taking it well and is ready for us to resume our project, now that he's had time to look up "thaumaturgic".

MONTOYA DELENDA EST!