Dear some things to think about,

I try to keep a running list of you, some things to think about. But you are slippery, like thought itself. For instance, I was thinking about something as simple as it's time to put the clean sheets on the bed. It's simple because there are, in fact, no sheets on the bed at the moment. So the time is optimal for clean sheets, or any sheets, although where sheets are concerned, clean is preferable to any of the alternatives, as I see it.

Well, there the bed sits, naked and without sheets, but it so happens that several important and fat catalogs arrived in the mail today, which clearly needed perusing. It also so happens that an unmade bed is, if not optimal, just fine for perusing catalogs. So I did: I perused them, which led me inextricably to consider the fact of my nail polish, which was chipping. Nail polish remover, a new coat, and here I am with nails too fresh for making a bed, obviously. Obviously!

It's just like that, some things to think about. My office, for instance, is a den of madness. (My office at home--at work, my office is pristine, immaculate, worthy of worship, a shrine to what is good and right in the universe.) A den of thieves, I want to say, although that's Biblical. Actually, though, Biblical is the frame of mind that the den of chaos that is my office puts me in. Hellfire and Old Testament punishments.

If I could keep track of you, some things to think about, maybe I could make something happen in the Orderliness quadrant of Desirable Qualities to Have [DQH™]. Yet here I am, blogging. When all else fails: blog. But blogging doesn't put the Order back into the DQH™. It just doesn't.

Some things to think about, I wish that the list of you would stop running. I wish it would stand still so I could take the measure of you. Stop moving and slipping, some things to think about! When will I ever [X] if you don't?

disorderly but with super shiny nails,

htms

Memorandum to my cable television.

TO:         The Downstairs DISH box and DVR

FROM:   Hightouchmegastore

RE:          Your failure to provide me with the television programming and digital video recording that I have paid for and is therefore rightfully mine to expect

DATE:     20 November 2008

It's been six months now since the Great Downstairs Renovation of 2008.  The panelling of death has been removed.  Paint has been applied to the walls.  A new-to-us retro-tastic sectional sofa, cobalt blue, has been purchased, delivered, and attractively arranged for socializing and, yes, let it be said, television watching.  But you, downstairs DISH box and DVR, are not even speaking to the television.  You and the television are not communicating.  The television gives me static.  You make spinning sounds in your self-contained universe.  What are you doing in there?  Working a treadle? Knitting a sweater? Running the dishwasher?

All I know is, they's no shows a-transmittin' on the T.V.  No pictures or banter or dvr'd episodes of Family Guy.  Nothing is what you are delivering.  Nothing.  

More, you act like there's nothing wrong.  I try to reset you, you make your obliging spinning sound. Like you're God, setting the gyroscope of the earth on its axis. Still nothing.  I check your cables and tighten them and still: nothing.   

The worst is calling the DISHOverlord at 1-888-FUT-ILE*.  Here's what the DISHOverlord Robot says to you:  "Did you know that many problems with your DISH television can be solved via your remote?  Are you in front of your television with your remote?  If not, hang up and call back later."  Try talking your way through this problem with the eventual human who shows up on the line:  "Uh, well, let me start about six months ago.  We were doing some work downstairs.  Well, actually, the problem is, well, when we got it going about a month ago, there was a message about a smart card?  But now I can't . . . I can't even get that message back.  It's like.  But. I can't." And so on &c.  It's a nightmare and I'm blaming it on you, downstairs DISH box and DVR.  The Overlord is just gratuitous humiliation.

Please organize yourself and take care of this situation; I'll expect a report when things are back to normal and order is restored.