A few weeks ago I traveled out of town to visit family. When I got back on the following Tuesday I realized that I had forgotten the power cord for my electric razor at my in-laws’ house.
My skin is more comfortable with an electric razor, but my beard looks awful when I don’t shave. I might look rugged for 2 days, but pretty soon my face looks like a mangy mutt with various splotches of fur that point in random directions.
I went downhill skiing, for the first time ever. My father-in-law took me and he is a great instructor. He helped me learn the rule #1: don’t lean. I also learned how to turn, how to have fun, and most importantly, how gracelessly fall.
While traveling down the mountain for the first time my father-in-law was saying “turn” each time I needed to turn. Apparently I need to remember to “just keep turning” and I can travel downhill pretty well.
Just as I was getting the pacing, he stopped vocalizing the instructions. The hill was getting steeper. I was coming up to an orange rope delineating the un-groomed snow which had a bunch of bushes sticking out of the snow.
I could see that I needed to turn.
On Saturday I decided to unpack the speakers for my computer. I found the box they were in, but it was taped up. To open the box I needed a sharp implement. Because I had lost my pocket knife to the TSA, I grabbed the nearest such item in the room: a butter knife.
As I attempted to open the box, the knife just wouldn’t cut the tape.
I thought these things were serrated.
Inspection of the blade revealed that it wasn’t. (Looking in the utensil drawer later, it turns out half of our matching sets of butter knifes are serrated and the other half are not. Weird.)
Recently, at the airport, I was in the screening line. I had half walked through the metal detector when I notice that I forgotten to take my watch off. I sheepishly took it off and held it up to the screener and he waved me through anyway.
I was on my way over to the conveyor belt to wait for my personal items when a different agent waved me over, held up my keychain, and asked,
“Is this yours?”
There are many things I love about my phone. It has a data plan, lots of apps, and a really cool keyboard that allows me to type up messages faster than ever.
But I also find that I hate my phone. People ask why I hate it, and with so many things I don't like about it (largely because I am trained to notice the things I hate) I find myself stumbling as to what to tell them. So I decided to find the key reason I dislike my phone so I can have it on hand whenever someone asks. And the key reason is:
My wife and I walk to the car and I go to open the door for her.
Because I need her to unlock the door so that I can open it, I pause and say, "You have the purse."
"No I don't. You do."
Sure enough. I had placed it under my arm as we walked out the door.
What's worse is that I knew I had the purse just as I finished stating that she had it.
One benefit of being slightly older than my peers in school is my age gets me a few extra perks. For instance, when I traveled out of state with two colleagues and we rented a car, I was the only one who could drive it; I was 25, everyone else was 24 or younger, and they would have had to pay more for insurance.
Woo hoo!
The car rental place even upgraded our car to a Pontiac Aztec, for free! And because I was using a platinum credit card, I didn’t have to pay extra for the insurance. Things are looking up!
