Remember how I worked all weekend and all I ended up with was a crappy cold? It turns out that it was a sinus infection. I gave it a week and then when I was about to flip out on the next person who asked me a question, like for instance, “How are you today, Justin?” I decided it was time to go to the doctor, face the music, get some drugs and once again be able to use both nostrils for breathing purposes.

When I called to make my appointment the receptionist informed me that I would be seeing Dr. Q. In my dizzy and semi cold medicined out haze I really wanted to ask if it was Q from Bond or Q from Star Trek. Utimately that would determine whether I kept my appointment or not. It turns out it was neither, but she did give me some drugs and that has made a world of difference. I can breathe! It’s a miracle!

Now that I’m starting to feel more like a real live human being instead partially resurrected roadkill, I can get ready for all sorts of fun things..

 Like raking leaves.

Like most things in my life, I’m anal about trips to the grocery store. I go with a purpose. Most often I go with a list and because I am a huge dork effing awesome I print out my own little shopping list in Buffy font.  I also try very hard to organize it in such a way that I move through the store from end to end without having to double back six times for a few reasons; chiefly that it saves me time and also so I’m not spending time going back and forth and seeing all kinds of things I think I need.

I also tend to get a huge case of road rage while behind a cart. I don’t know what it is, but suddenly I’m a maniac and everyone isn’t moving as fast as I think they should be. Part of what bothers me is that the grocery store I go to (that’s closest to our house) is freaking amazing and so everyone goes there. I mean EVERYONE. It gets rather crowded and the aisles aren’t as wide as they could be to accomodate the through traffic. Another problem is that they offer a normal sized cart with a car on the front for small children to ride in. Now I have nothing against small children but those things are huge and they take up way too much space. The cup holders available for coffee also don’t help with the leisurely stroll pace that many shoppers take. This is all fine and well and more than normal. It’s well within their rights as human beings to take their time, bring their children and push the Hummer sized carts through the cramp aisles if that pleases them. I’m just a speed demon when it comes to having a shopping cart and I have no patience for people when I am on a mission. Baskets I do fine with and I don’t get the urge to run people down when I carry one of those, but they get heavy. It’s a trade off I suppose.

This past Sunday, Jason and I went to do our grocery shopping for the week. He’s no where near as anal about grocery shopping (or anything really) as I am and he was taking his time strolling through the meat section so I opted to go and get a loaf of bread (because it was on my list!). About five minutes before this, the Vice President of where he works came through and said hello to him by name. Jason was impressed because he sees this man maybe once or twice a year, if that. So I’m on my way to get bread and I come within 5 feet of the associate director of my office*.

Naturally, I say hello to her… and she walks right by me as if she didn’t hear me or see me. RIGHT BY ME. I was less than a cart’s width away from her. I was half high on cold medicine at the time so I just kind of stood there feeling akward and dumbstruck. She too began to stroll through the meat section so I walked over to Jason (we were still within hearing distance and visual sight) and I pointed and said “You see that woman?”.

He acknowledged that he did. “She’s the head of my office and I said hi and she totally ignored me!”

“Maybe she didn’t recognize you Justin. Do you see her that often?”

“Oh no not really… just every day.”

Well I can assure you that Jason thought that was pretty funny. “So let me get this straight,” He began, “The VP knows my name and seems me maybe once a year and a woman you work for and see every day doesn’t know you exist.”

“We’re done now.” I said and pushed my cart, with renewed determination to mow down anyone in my path, to the milk section.

*Just to clarify - she was totally in her own little world. Had she known that she slighted and ignored me she would be devistated as she genuinally is a very pleasant and approachable person and says good morning to me every day as she walks in the door, past my desk on the way to her office… less than a cart’s width away..

I have a theory. A conspiracy theory. We’ll call it the leaf effect. The theory goes something like this. In the neighborhood that I live in (aptly named for the various greenery that grows in said development) there are trees everywhere. You can’t turn around without seeing a tree. What’s really nice (and neat!) is that we’re two blocks in from the main highway and there is zero noise or light polution. The first night we stayed at our house after purchasing it I said two things. “It’s so dark!!” & “It’s so QUIET!”. I love you neighborhood. I do. But what is with all the yardwork?

You see last year we were just settling in. We were new homeowners and it was all fun. We get to rake leaves! Yay! We get to shovel snow! Woo!! We get to go to block parties*! Yippie! This year though we know what to expect and we are not looking forward to it.

For the next million hundred six weeks, every weekend we can count on one thing. We’ll have leaves to rake. Now I love where my house is situated. We have trees on the one side of the house that block us from one set of neighbors and they extend to the back of our house. The other set of neighbors are friendly and interactions with them are pleasant (we totally lucked out in that department!) and in the summer it’s wonderful. It’s like we’re our own little oasis. We can sit on the deck and look off into the fake woods and watch chipmunks and squirrels and sometimes there are rabbits. It’s good stuff.

Now to the conspiracy of it all. Every autumn, every neighbor within a two five block radius waits until some ungodly middle of the night hour (lets say 3am for the sake of arguement) and deposits their leaves onto our yard. Oh sure, they save a tiny little pile to put by their curb as “proof” that they raked their leaves, but the other 98%? Those are spread in a thin layer (so as not to rouse suspicion) across the front and back portions of my yard.

I know what you’re thinking. “Why Justin.. you’ve gone absolutely mad! How could someone do this and get away with it? Why would someone spend all that time to rake up their leaves and take them to your house only to spread them out again to appear as though they had “fallen” that way?”

To this I can only offer photographical (Is that a word?? It is now.) evidence and ask one question:

How do you explain the absurd amount of foliage that needed to be raked this weekend? That is one week’s worth. Either there is a neighborhood conspiracy for the disposal of their leaves or my home is truely blessed by Sid the wiley Leaf Gnome. I rest my case.

*Please note that all block parties mentioned in this post were hypothetical, though it’s a neat and quaint idea. In theory.

And by all weekend, I mean all weekend. It all started Friday. I was hot. Then I was cold. Then I was hot again. This went on pretty much all day. Jason and I had previously taped off the downstairs where we wanted to paint and I decided that nothing was going to keep us from painting this weekend. Not even fire and brimstone. It was serious.

Friday night (Amid my sniffles) we primed. I think its the part that I hate the most. No one gets to see it. You (most of the time) have to do it. It’s got no color or pop so it’s just bleh work and then to top it all off you paint over it again right away so it’s not like it was even there!

During this process we noticed that it might be very handy to have some smaller tiny rollers and so on Saturday before we embarked on our trip into the world of pigment so off to Lowes we went. While there, we bought every tiny roller they had. Jason had made plans to go and watch the game (it was homecoming weekend) that afternoon so we finished painting early and had enough time to rake the leaves that accumulated during the week. He had just enough time to get a shower and leave before kick off. I however felt like I had hit by a mack truck and spent my afternoon/evening wilting into a puddle of snot. I like to say that entire neighborhood deposits all of their leaves into our yard during the night because it always seems like no one else has any leaves except us. It’s a conspiracy of some sort and if I had a time delayed camera I’m sure I’d have the evidence to prove it. Of course whenever I mention this people always assume I’m joking. “Haha Justin!” they’ll say, “You’re such a kidder!”.

Sunday we added a second coat of pumpkin pie (as Martha likes to call the color) to the walls and I stood back and reviewed our handy work. I’m not sure I like it yet. I liked it on the swatch and I liked it in the can and I even liked the pretty picture that popped into my mind when I mentally photoshopped it into the equation, I’m just not sure if it’s more cantelopey or raw pumpkin as opposed to the cooked variety. I think that once everything is in place and the blue painters tape is off the walls that it’ll look much better. I hope. Sunday was also grocery store day but that is a topic all its own.

I’ll leave you today with a trail of tissues leading to my desk and a few in progress photos of the cooked squash in question.