Briefly...
Big holiday coming up. Anyone have any big plans?
At The Piehome, it's time to celebrate the annual visit of Joe.
Joe D., that is. My old roommate. See his full shortness below.
Joe's an interesting fella. I met him at church after I got out of college and started hanging out more in town again. Joe was sort of a friend of a friend, and we really didn't talk at all.
Somehow, though, Joe felt friendly enough with me and old J.Lowe that, at one point, he asked us if he could crash on our couch. It's quite possible that Joe was actually J.Lowe's friend; I've never been too sure. I have a fuzzy recollection of how Joe and I became chums.
Anyhoo, Joe did end up crashing on our couch. And that began a long span of Joe being my roommate.
Shortly after Joe lived on our couch, J.Lowe and I finished our second years of law school and J.Lowe headed off to jolly olde England to study powdered wigs and tea. I was left in a bit of a lurch, and begged Joe to let me stay in his fancy new Beaverton apartment. He obliged, and I spent a summer crashing on his couch. We had fun. By day, he was a pseudo-architect and I was a pseudo-lawyer (both of us learning our fields, he as an assistant and I as an intern at the Marion County DA's Office). By night, we played obscene amounts of Playstation 2 (which, now that I think of it, has actually been around quite a while...it's actually ancient as game systems go...).
Eventually J.Lowe came back, and we all shacked up together in a house in Multnomah Village. It was there that I developed a thorough understanding of how frustrating Joe D. could be.
Joe D's from California. I think I'll blame that sole fact for all of his afflictions. Did you know that Californians are the strangest people on earth? Joe was a stereotypical Californian, as is displayed by this simple fact: he was obsessed with climate control. In the summer, Joe would jack up the A/C as high as he could, never satisfied unless the house was a cool 55 degrees. In the winter, he'd turn up the heat until our house was warm enough that he could feel comfortable in his summer clothes. I asked him once, during my summer frustration at seeing our sky-high power bill (Joe was the only one of us with a real job, since J.Lowe and I were still in our third year of law school) "Joe, now that it's summer, why don't you just pretend it's winter, and then you'll feel comfortable in a warm house?"
He'd have none of my logic. We often caught him trying to defy the democratically imposed restrictions on his power abuse, and many a day passed where he was duly chastised.
That wasn't his only issue though. Joe has no memory for what you've told him. My wife says my memory is bad, and she's right. But Joe makes me look like a freaking elephant with his forgetfulness.
This came in handy, though, when our friend Luke moved in for awhile. Luke could never remember what he'd told you earlier, and would constantly repeat the same story or idea to the point where he'd look at you, you'd tell him what he was thinking, and he'd be amazed at your powers of perception.
Needless to say, we made Luke and Joe share the upstairs of the house. They had many great conversations, all the same, and all interesting to both of them.
Joe eventually left us, though, and went back to California to pursue his dream of being an architect.
Joe comes back once a year, and we have fun for about 4 days. By the end of that period, of course, I've gotten impatient with his repetition and his long showers that use all the hot water, and he's grown sick of my grumpiness and irritability at having to repeat everything over and over, and he leaves and we count to 10 months before he can come back again. But, really, if he ever moved back it would make me, The Missus, and even J.Lowe happy. Because, darn it, we like ol' Joe D.
Welcome back, Joe. Can't wait to get sick of you.
Anyway, Joe's gonna be here until next Wednesday, which will necessitate less writing. I'll throw out bits and pieces, but nothing big for a few days. Hope you can stand it.
By the way, in case you're at all curious, word is the seller on my house is acquiescing to all of my demands, and we're again on track to close by September 24th. Which makes me happy, primarily because it keeps The Missus happy.
Anyway, that's all.
Catch ya later.
At The Piehome, it's time to celebrate the annual visit of Joe.
Joe D., that is. My old roommate. See his full shortness below.
Joe's an interesting fella. I met him at church after I got out of college and started hanging out more in town again. Joe was sort of a friend of a friend, and we really didn't talk at all.
Somehow, though, Joe felt friendly enough with me and old J.Lowe that, at one point, he asked us if he could crash on our couch. It's quite possible that Joe was actually J.Lowe's friend; I've never been too sure. I have a fuzzy recollection of how Joe and I became chums.
Anyhoo, Joe did end up crashing on our couch. And that began a long span of Joe being my roommate.
Shortly after Joe lived on our couch, J.Lowe and I finished our second years of law school and J.Lowe headed off to jolly olde England to study powdered wigs and tea. I was left in a bit of a lurch, and begged Joe to let me stay in his fancy new Beaverton apartment. He obliged, and I spent a summer crashing on his couch. We had fun. By day, he was a pseudo-architect and I was a pseudo-lawyer (both of us learning our fields, he as an assistant and I as an intern at the Marion County DA's Office). By night, we played obscene amounts of Playstation 2 (which, now that I think of it, has actually been around quite a while...it's actually ancient as game systems go...).
Eventually J.Lowe came back, and we all shacked up together in a house in Multnomah Village. It was there that I developed a thorough understanding of how frustrating Joe D. could be.
Joe D's from California. I think I'll blame that sole fact for all of his afflictions. Did you know that Californians are the strangest people on earth? Joe was a stereotypical Californian, as is displayed by this simple fact: he was obsessed with climate control. In the summer, Joe would jack up the A/C as high as he could, never satisfied unless the house was a cool 55 degrees. In the winter, he'd turn up the heat until our house was warm enough that he could feel comfortable in his summer clothes. I asked him once, during my summer frustration at seeing our sky-high power bill (Joe was the only one of us with a real job, since J.Lowe and I were still in our third year of law school) "Joe, now that it's summer, why don't you just pretend it's winter, and then you'll feel comfortable in a warm house?"
He'd have none of my logic. We often caught him trying to defy the democratically imposed restrictions on his power abuse, and many a day passed where he was duly chastised.
That wasn't his only issue though. Joe has no memory for what you've told him. My wife says my memory is bad, and she's right. But Joe makes me look like a freaking elephant with his forgetfulness.
This came in handy, though, when our friend Luke moved in for awhile. Luke could never remember what he'd told you earlier, and would constantly repeat the same story or idea to the point where he'd look at you, you'd tell him what he was thinking, and he'd be amazed at your powers of perception.
Needless to say, we made Luke and Joe share the upstairs of the house. They had many great conversations, all the same, and all interesting to both of them.
Joe eventually left us, though, and went back to California to pursue his dream of being an architect.
Joe comes back once a year, and we have fun for about 4 days. By the end of that period, of course, I've gotten impatient with his repetition and his long showers that use all the hot water, and he's grown sick of my grumpiness and irritability at having to repeat everything over and over, and he leaves and we count to 10 months before he can come back again. But, really, if he ever moved back it would make me, The Missus, and even J.Lowe happy. Because, darn it, we like ol' Joe D.
Welcome back, Joe. Can't wait to get sick of you.
Anyway, Joe's gonna be here until next Wednesday, which will necessitate less writing. I'll throw out bits and pieces, but nothing big for a few days. Hope you can stand it.
By the way, in case you're at all curious, word is the seller on my house is acquiescing to all of my demands, and we're again on track to close by September 24th. Which makes me happy, primarily because it keeps The Missus happy.
Anyway, that's all.
Catch ya later.
posted by Rusty at 11:37 PM
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