August 23, 2002

Forgot how much work an infant can be. They completely take over your life and house. This little tiny human who can't talk, can't walk, can't really do anything but eat and cry totally takes control of everything.

I love my son and I love my new daughter, but I don't know if I can endure this another time. Two might be the limit.

The worst part about it is that taking care of the infant leaves my wife and I so tired, that our son gets shorted. We have less patience when dealing with him. I feel tired whenever I'm playing with him. I feel like I'm letting him down.

Weird dream last night. Dreamt I had to return a pair of shoes - running shoes. Buying the shoes the first time might have been part of the dream - but if it was, it was part of that hazy beginning part of a dream where you really haven't figured out what is going on yet.

Anyway. So I'm at the store with my brother. I lay a bag down on a bench in the store to pull the shoes out. While I'm sitting on the bench I fall over backwards and have to crawl under the bench in order to get back up. (not relevant to the larger dream-story, but a detail I remember, so I'm recounting it here.)

While I'm crawling under the bench, I can see that my brother is at the counter talking to the clerks about my situation. That I have shoes that I need to return. I see him turn, look at me, and shake his head.

I immediately realize that the store won't let me return the shoes.

I go into a rage. I run up to the counter - one shoe in each hand - and start spewing hate filled speech in the direction of any sales clerk within ear shot. There is some other guy at the counter having an equally bad experience, and we quickly become commrades-in-arms. A crowd gather's behind me. I turn to apologize for my vehement behavior but explain the situation. They seem unimpressed.

The clerks continue to give me bupkis.

"Refund," I scream.

"No," the clerk in glasses responds. (oh, did I mention that all three clerks in the store are women. 18-20, brunette, roughly 5'6" - 5'8")

"In-store credit," I demand.

"Sorry, no," says the clerk.

"Even exchange," I plead. I just don't want these shoes.

"We're not allowed to," says the chesty one.

At this point I start running around the store yelling at the top of my lungs about the travesty of it all, the unfairness, blah, blah, blah. I'll tell anyone who will listen. I yell at more young, female store clerks. I poke them in the chest with my finger to drive home the points of my arguments.

At some point one of the store clerks starts pulling the metal grating across the entrance to the shoe store. (You know, the ones they use for shops in the mall. This shoe store is in a mall). People starting rushing for the exit thinking their going to be trapped in the store with the ranting maniac trying to return his shoes (me).

Turns out the clerk was just pushing the grating from one side of the entrance to the other. I make some joke about everyone running for the exit and everyone starts to laugh. Its very odd.

So I turn around and head back to the counter. Now there are two very large, muscular men back with the female sales clerks. They look Russian. My first thought is, "Damn, the store is a front for the Russian Mafia! I'm dead!" The big Russian behind the counter looks frazzled. Eyes are all bloodshot. Hair's a mess. Looks like someone called him at home while he was in the middle of sleeping, or eating, or having sex and told him he needed to come down to the store immediately to deal with an irrate customer (me again). The other Russian is just standing there with his arms crossed wearing some kind of goofy hat.

I figure I'm going to get beat up.

However, it turns out he just want to get me to shut up and leave. He asks me what I want.

I say rather meekly, "A total refund?"

"Fine!" he says. Grabs the shoes, punches a few things into the cash register and slams a fist full of dollars on the counter.

Then I wake up.

August 22, 2002

My job really sucks sometimes. There are people here who take the whole thing too damn seriously. Like whether or not this project or that project gets approved has some kind of world altering potential. Its frickin' online apartment advertising, people! None of this matters in the grand scheme of life.

Relax. Keep it in perspective.

Don't know if I'm keen on the who Blogger set up. I gotta login to the site and get to the little posting section.

LiveJournal gives you a little download application that runs right on your computer. Just pop it up type and go. Much better in my opinoin when it comes to writing at the spur of the moment. Plus, they got versions that run on Windows and MAC OS X, so I could have it installed at work and at home. Logging in to a website is so tedious.

I'll probably switch

Only made it two days

August 21, 2002

So I'm giving this bloggin thing a try. My hope is that I'll be able to update this more often than my sorry little site on Geocities (my site).

Use to have fun posting things there, but the work got to be too much. Just ran out of time.

We'll see.