After being home from work for a bit last night, I decided to venture to the bathroom to, well, you know. When I opened the door, I heard something scurry around frantically.
I promptly and instinctively closed the door, let my heart rate slow down, and began my vigil by the door, waiting for whatever it was to happen again.
"It's a bird," I said to myself, knowing full well that it was a bird, because I've heard that frenetic flapping before. When Sister and I were in San Francisco a few years ago, we were staying in a hotel that didn't have screens on the window. We thought this a bit odd, being from MA where windows have screens.
(Aside: I have since learned that most places don't have screens, which leads to all manner of mayhem including birds flying into hotel rooms and babies falling out of fourth story apartments. Then again, a baby falling may not be prevented by a screen if the baby is determined to escape. Bars, however, would prevent babies from getting out but not necessarily birds from getting in. I guess I am a little neurotic when it comes to screens. When we moved to Brooklyn I said to Roommate "Dude, why aren't there screens?" We were distressed for a bit - the bugs! - but then learned that most places do not have screens, and we were apparently just spoiled in MA. Digression = over.)
Anyway, Sister and I were awoken bright and early one day by the hysterical flapping of wings in our room. We freaked out (only after we were awake enough to realize that there was a bird having a meltdown in our room) and ran into the bathroom where we took shelter and regrouped. After we settled down, we opened the door to see the bird perched atop the TV. We tried a couple uninspired moves including trying to lure the bird out with bread - we realized this was the worst idea ever when a bunch of other birds from the outside almost flew in. Thinking back on this, it is bizarre to me that we even had bread in the hotel room. We tried throwing a shoe at it. We tried screaming like lunatics because that's the best thing to do to calm down a frightened bird. We eventually concluded that there was no way for us to get it out - it wasn't going to the window of its own volition, and since we were in a hotel room we were devoid of any bird-chasing devices like brooms and mops. We called the front desk and explained "Um, there's a bird in our room." They laughed, and finally sent a guy up with a pair of gloves, a pail, and a broom.
So I knew the sound all too well. I listened outside the bathroom door last night, and nothing was happening. Nothing! I stood there for a few minutes. I tried to lure it out. I turned the lights on and off. I banged on the door. I yelled. I tried to scare it again, scare it into revealing itself. I opened the door a crack and tried to look in the mirror to see if I could see its reflection. Nothing. I even walked in, attempting to reenact what caused it to panic in the first place. Nothing.
I decided to wait for D to come home, as D loves gender roles and would love nothing more than to save the day and as I didn't know how on earth to get a bird out of an apartment with no windows readily available.
Not that there was a bird. In the hour between hearing the noise and D's coming home from the gym, when the bird didn't make another sound, I managed to convince myself that my having a psychotic break was far more likely than there being a now silent bird in my apartment.
I kept weighing the options - which would be worse? An auditory hallucination or there being a bird in my apartment and my being unable to get it out? Seriously. This was going to be a hard job. The bird was in the bathroom and there were no windows nearby. We'd have to get the bird to fly to either end of the apartment, which wouldn't be easy, and would certainly be murder on the furniture. When Sister and I tried to get the bird out of the hotel room, it was freaking out and crapped everywhere. I didn't want a bird shitting on the couch, the nice sheets, no way.
If there turned out not to be a bird, would I go to a therapist and admit that I'd been hearing things? Probably not. I'd never admit it.
I started thinking "What if I'm seriously losing it?"
At one point during the vigil, I swore that I heard chirping. Seriously, I swore.
But no! How would a bird get into a Manhattan apartment? There was no way. It's impossible. But then again, D had taken out the air conditioners from the windows the night before (and yes, we are concerned that it might reach 70 degrees again but whatever, we'll deal) so it is possible that a bird sneaked in, but wouldn't we have noticed? And how would it have gone undetected all night?
No. There was no bird, and I was losing my mind, and I spent most of that hour trying to think if I'd experienced any other insanity in the recent months, and trying to think of what I would say to D. I wanted him to inspect the bathroom just to make sure that there was no bird. But I didn't want to say "There's a bird in the bathroom," because if there wasn't, that would really scare him. And me.
And then I thought "Wait - but what if there is a bird and it somehow flies out of the bathroom and we go to look and its not there but is somewhere else in the apartment? My diagnosis will be insanity but I won't actually be insane!"
I thought about not saying anything, and letting D discover (or not discover) it for himself. But on the off-chance that there was a bird, I didn't want him to have a heart attack when he went to take a shower and a bird flew into his face. But if I didn't say anything, I wouldn't incriminate myself as an insane person.
When D walked in, he gave me a kiss and joked "What a long day at the office!" I immediately said "Honey, I think there's something in the bathroom."
I hadn't even considered this option. It just came out of my mouth. Brilliant. And by then I had convinced myself that it was entirely possible that D hadn't shut the flue the night before, although that's not like him, but its possible that a bird could fly in through the chimney! Totally possible.
"What?"
"I don't know, but I heard something."
"Like what?"
"I don't know - I could have been hallucinating or it could have been from the neighbor's apartment, but it sounded like... well, either some very large gruesome insect or a mouse or something. Something big." I said nothing about the bird, because seriously, there can't be a bird in a Manhattan apartment. There just can't be.
I made D nervous. I didn't mean to. But I have to admit that I like it when he's nervous and insecure, because I see it so rarely. I feel like we have something in common when he gets that way. We looked in the bathroom together, with the door only slightly ajar. D also performed the look-in-the-mirror maneuver. Nothing.
"What's that?" I said, pointing to a small black spot on the toilet. Normally I wouldn't be alarmed, but I'd just cleaned the bathroom the night before and was expecting spotlessness.
"It looks like bird crap," said D.
"AH HA!" I said. "It IS a bird."
"What?"
"I think there's a bird."
"But there's no bird." There was no bird. "Maybe in the towels?" I suggested. No bird.
"Look in the shower..." I said and as he opened the shower curtain we both had minor heart attacks when the freaking bird flew up and spazzed out.
Yes, folks, a bird.
And how did it get in?
Through the flue, in the fireplace, which had not been closed the night before.
We slammed the door shut, regrouped, and came up with a plan. D said "How did it get in?" "THE FLUE!" I said, having had more time to think about it than he did.
Upon further inspection, there was bird crap all over the apartment, which was doubly unfortunate given that D had literally scrubbed the floor on his hands and knees the night before. Neither of us had noticed it previously because our floor is speckled with dried paint from whoever painted our apartment before we moved in. Camouflage. We had to inspect each dot carefully to determine what was what. There was some on the TV, but it looked like the bedroom and kitchen were spared.
D wanted to coax it out one of our windows, but I didn't want to because I was afraid of more damage. I didn't know what to do. D suggested coaxing it out into the hall, which was a good idea but what if it then flew into someone else's apartment? I preferred his original idea, but then D decided to let it out the front door and try to get it up to the roof. Brilliant!
Before I knew what was happening, D had the bird out in the hall and was chasing it up the stairs onto the roof.
My hero.
And my non-hallucinating brain.
Bird in the apartment. Wtf?
Friday, January 19, 2007
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Wicked Embarrassed
D and I went to see Tears of the Black Tiger last night, which wasn't nearly as good as any of the reviews would have indicated.
Nevertheless, I owed D a movie from last week when we went to see Army of Shadows. Movies at the Film Forum are $10.50.
I gave the dude $25.
He gave me $22.50 in change. As we were walking away, I thought "Wait a minute! He should have given me $4 in change!"
The old me would have just kept walking, because I feel like this sort of thing is karma and I'm sure I've gotten too much change in the past and kept it.
But the new saving-money me wouldn't stand for it.
I marched back in there and said "Um, excuse me, I think you only gave me $22.50 and the total was $21 so I should have gotten $4 back."
The hipster looked at me and said "I'm pretty sure I gave you $2 and two Sacagaweas."
Oops.
I felt like such an idiot, and I was so embarrassed, and I began to apologize for not being able to tell the difference between quarters and Sacagawea coins. It's not like Sacagawea coins are really in rotation, and it was dark, and I just took them and put them in my pocket without looking at them because this is what you with two large coins that are pretty much the size of quarters.
I stopped apologizing, though, because I felt like the guy was being condescending. Upon further examination, I realized that he wasn't being condescending at all. I just felt like he was because I felt like such a moron for not knowing that they were Sacagawea coins (if I have to type that again I am going to explode) and not quarters. I wanted to go back and apologize for not apologizing enough, but that would have been ridiculous, and I'm sure he was being condescencing because he had every right to be after I accused him of giving me the wrong change.
The annoying thing about all of this is that I never ever ever do things like that, and that guy was probably thinking "I hate New Yorkers..." because that's the sort of thing New Yorkers do, only normally over three cent discrepancies.
***
In other news, I can't find my only pair of gloves and its really cold out.
***
Luckily I have mittens (although they are mittens with holes, which aren't terribly effective in this sort of weather), and a warm hat, and a scarf and super warm coat. I wore all of these things this morning and was very proud of myself for about three seconds, until my feet started to freeze.
Why? Because I am wearing chucks.
I really don't know how I get through life without my mother saying "You know, its cold outside. You should wear warm shoes." I might as well be wearing sandals.
***
I am feeling social pressure these days. Nobody is actually putting pressure on me. Because I'm in a bit of an antisocial phase that happens to coincide with my potentially moving soon-ish, there is a conflict. People want to hang out but I want to go to musicals by myself and get more sleep to decrease my brain age. I want to read books and watch movies and do art projects. Of course I want to see people, but it's hard to plan when you're not in the mood to plan anything beyond what to do alone.
***
This is why having a party would be good, but then I would have to plan that.
***
And don't even try to stop me from taking the photos for Ebay tonight!
***
I'm tired. I stayed up too late last night finishing Tricked. I don't know if I love reading graphic novels because I love them or because they're easy to read but just as fulfilling as non-graphic novels. They're good for sociocultural ADD. They're low maintenance.
***
And with that... I am going to lurk a bit and then head to the Gershwin where I will beg for a ticket to Wicked this weekend. Then I'm off to Amish where I will procure lovely fruits and veggies for the next few days. Then I shall go home and deal with bills and mailings, take photos for EBay, make at least one phone call, maybe watch a movie, eat some food, maybe post things on EBay, maybe clean the ever-grossing bathroom. Wish me luck. Having Wicked on my to-do list will make me so very happy.
Nevertheless, I owed D a movie from last week when we went to see Army of Shadows. Movies at the Film Forum are $10.50.
I gave the dude $25.
He gave me $22.50 in change. As we were walking away, I thought "Wait a minute! He should have given me $4 in change!"
The old me would have just kept walking, because I feel like this sort of thing is karma and I'm sure I've gotten too much change in the past and kept it.
But the new saving-money me wouldn't stand for it.
I marched back in there and said "Um, excuse me, I think you only gave me $22.50 and the total was $21 so I should have gotten $4 back."
The hipster looked at me and said "I'm pretty sure I gave you $2 and two Sacagaweas."
Oops.
I felt like such an idiot, and I was so embarrassed, and I began to apologize for not being able to tell the difference between quarters and Sacagawea coins. It's not like Sacagawea coins are really in rotation, and it was dark, and I just took them and put them in my pocket without looking at them because this is what you with two large coins that are pretty much the size of quarters.
I stopped apologizing, though, because I felt like the guy was being condescending. Upon further examination, I realized that he wasn't being condescending at all. I just felt like he was because I felt like such a moron for not knowing that they were Sacagawea coins (if I have to type that again I am going to explode) and not quarters. I wanted to go back and apologize for not apologizing enough, but that would have been ridiculous, and I'm sure he was being condescencing because he had every right to be after I accused him of giving me the wrong change.
The annoying thing about all of this is that I never ever ever do things like that, and that guy was probably thinking "I hate New Yorkers..." because that's the sort of thing New Yorkers do, only normally over three cent discrepancies.
***
In other news, I can't find my only pair of gloves and its really cold out.
***
Luckily I have mittens (although they are mittens with holes, which aren't terribly effective in this sort of weather), and a warm hat, and a scarf and super warm coat. I wore all of these things this morning and was very proud of myself for about three seconds, until my feet started to freeze.
Why? Because I am wearing chucks.
I really don't know how I get through life without my mother saying "You know, its cold outside. You should wear warm shoes." I might as well be wearing sandals.
***
I am feeling social pressure these days. Nobody is actually putting pressure on me. Because I'm in a bit of an antisocial phase that happens to coincide with my potentially moving soon-ish, there is a conflict. People want to hang out but I want to go to musicals by myself and get more sleep to decrease my brain age. I want to read books and watch movies and do art projects. Of course I want to see people, but it's hard to plan when you're not in the mood to plan anything beyond what to do alone.
***
This is why having a party would be good, but then I would have to plan that.
***
And don't even try to stop me from taking the photos for Ebay tonight!
***
I'm tired. I stayed up too late last night finishing Tricked. I don't know if I love reading graphic novels because I love them or because they're easy to read but just as fulfilling as non-graphic novels. They're good for sociocultural ADD. They're low maintenance.
***
And with that... I am going to lurk a bit and then head to the Gershwin where I will beg for a ticket to Wicked this weekend. Then I'm off to Amish where I will procure lovely fruits and veggies for the next few days. Then I shall go home and deal with bills and mailings, take photos for EBay, make at least one phone call, maybe watch a movie, eat some food, maybe post things on EBay, maybe clean the ever-grossing bathroom. Wish me luck. Having Wicked on my to-do list will make me so very happy.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Engaged!
Ha! Did I get you? No, I'm not engaged. Or maybe... I am?
Not really. I guess its open to interpretation.
Heh.
Anyway.
The weekend was good. Friday night was Super Awesome Sleepover 2007. Pizza, cheap wine, goldfish, chips, cookies, Idiocracy, Playstation 2. We started to play and solved the Star Wars Lego game, the best part of which is that you can earn a ton of studs and buy "moustaches." We became, of course, obsessed with what that could mean - were disguises required at some point in the game? Disguises not a la dressed up as a storm trooper, but being hidden by a fake moustache? We earned enough to buy them - we bought nothing else for the entire game - no enhanced blasters, no invincibility, no extra characters - only moustaches. The moustaches, of course, turned out to be the best things of all time because when you turn them on, all of the characters in the game put on Tom Selleck-esque moustaches! Yoda! R2-D2! Even some of the ships have moustaches! Joy.
I hadn't played a video game since, like, 1999, when LBF and I rented Pod Racer and had a videogame night with GL. I forgot how much fun it could be. I was impressed with myself that I could actually use the controller, given that things have gotten so complicated.
The game is for 8-year-olds. I am mystified by kids today. They must all be brilliant. We got stuck in a couple levels, and kept saying "If we were 8, what would we do? Think like an 8-year-old!"
I have decided that if I ever get married, I am going to register for a Playstation. That would rule.
We spent the following day searching out brunch (another missed celebrity encounter - one of the guys from Office Space! curses! I wasn't expecting him in Brooklyn!) roaming around Park Slope, being accosted by strollers and dogs. I have determined that I should live in The Slope, because the clothes! Oh my! I bought a shirt. I didn't mean to! I hadn't bought anything all month! I was saving money! But D and MY went into the bike shop and I had nothing to do, so I walked into a store and I had to try it on.
We solved Star Wars post-Legos, and D and I headed back to the city where we did absolutely nothing productive. Yes!
On Sunday I had nothing to do, so I decided to see a musical. I saw Company, which was apparently remarkably ahead of its time. I really enjoyed it. I was trying to see Wicked, but I am starting to come to terms with the fact that I may never see it.
This is what happened:
- went to Wicked box-office on 51st
- there was some sort of raffle or something going on, plus I saw someone I knew who I didn't want to talk to, so I walked around a bit and then went back
- returned to box office, waited out raffle, went into box office and was told the show was sold out
- went to TKTS (46th) to get tickets to Spelling Bee
- no tickets at TKTS, so walked back to box office (Spelling Bee is right near Wicked) (51st)
- standing room only (wtf?)
- walked back to TKTS for other interesting tickets but nothing was really exciting me
- began walking to 42nd Street
- got to 44th Street and decided to go to Beauty and The Beast theater on 46th for tickets - but the show had already started! (thus explaining why there were no tickets at TKTS)
- walked back to TKTS just for one last chance at a rare and interesting ticket having materialized
- nothing interesting
- began walking to movie theater on 42nd St.
- passed by poster for Company on 44th St. and decided "I will see that!"
- ran like an idiot to 47th Street and got a ticket 5 minutes before it began
- woo!
I got the cheap ticket - $36 - and the guy behind the window said "The show's not going to sell out, so feel free to move up once the show has started." Word, dude. Yes, I was in the very last row of the mezzanine - I was eavesdropping and apparently the last two rows are $36 and every other ticket is $81 or more. Hah! I totally moved up to the front row of the mezzanine after intermission.
Which reminds me...
Things I WILL Miss About NYC (in no particular order):
* Being able to roll out of bed on a Sunday afternoon with no particular plan in mind and end up seeing a Broadway show for $37. (This is definitely going to be at the top of the list. I caught myself nearly shedding a tear during Company thinking about this. Sniff. Woe. Etc.)
I hit the Amish market and then D's friend S came over for dinner. We drank 2+ bottles of wine between the three of us and had a jolly time.
Trashed, I was.
As of late I have been thinking about marriage because I feel like everyone I know is getting engaged. No, that's not true. I've always known people who were married or engaged. I've been to 12 zillion weddings. I think lately I've been conscious of this because everyone is engaged and all of these people have dated for far less time than I have been dating D. So I'm a little sensitive. Well, I'm a lot sensitive. And it's weird because it's not like I want to be married right this instant. I just have this weird sense of being different, and I don't lik ethat.
Trashed, I was, and so decided to say "D, let's get married!"
Dear god. As the words were coming out of my mouth my brain was in slow motion firing neurons that yelled "Noooo........."
He didn't shrug or laugh uncomfortably or ignore it.
Nope.
He said "OK."
"OK?"
"Yes. When?"
"Ummm... you want to know when?"
"Yes, when?"
"After!" I said, horrified.
"After what?"
"After some stuff happens and then it will be after that stuff happened so it will be a good time."
And we both laughed.
But he said yes.
Tee hee.
I guess we have a verbal contract.
But when? I don't know! How should I know?
I guess this is how men must feel all the time.
I didn't even leave the house yesterday. I read some of Tricked and finished reading The Voice and watched Al Gore with too much makeup warning me about polar bears who are drowning and giant populations of giant jellyfish and CO2 levels etc. Gore can do not wrong, but he was being a little melodramatic. But I don't care, because I will always heart Al. I meant to do some Ebay-ing but procrastinated instead and updated the blogs and talked to Mother for like 3 hours. I made other phone calls but people weren't home, and when they called back I was trying to watch The Golden Globes because I was hoping hopinh hopinh Sacha Baron Cohen would win and give the best speech of all time. Apparently he did both these things, but I missed both because the show was so. very. boring and I couldn't take it and so ended up reading and watching Arrested Development.
And that, folks, was the weekend update.
Not really. I guess its open to interpretation.
Heh.
Anyway.
The weekend was good. Friday night was Super Awesome Sleepover 2007. Pizza, cheap wine, goldfish, chips, cookies, Idiocracy, Playstation 2. We started to play and solved the Star Wars Lego game, the best part of which is that you can earn a ton of studs and buy "moustaches." We became, of course, obsessed with what that could mean - were disguises required at some point in the game? Disguises not a la dressed up as a storm trooper, but being hidden by a fake moustache? We earned enough to buy them - we bought nothing else for the entire game - no enhanced blasters, no invincibility, no extra characters - only moustaches. The moustaches, of course, turned out to be the best things of all time because when you turn them on, all of the characters in the game put on Tom Selleck-esque moustaches! Yoda! R2-D2! Even some of the ships have moustaches! Joy.
I hadn't played a video game since, like, 1999, when LBF and I rented Pod Racer and had a videogame night with GL. I forgot how much fun it could be. I was impressed with myself that I could actually use the controller, given that things have gotten so complicated.
The game is for 8-year-olds. I am mystified by kids today. They must all be brilliant. We got stuck in a couple levels, and kept saying "If we were 8, what would we do? Think like an 8-year-old!"
I have decided that if I ever get married, I am going to register for a Playstation. That would rule.
We spent the following day searching out brunch (another missed celebrity encounter - one of the guys from Office Space! curses! I wasn't expecting him in Brooklyn!) roaming around Park Slope, being accosted by strollers and dogs. I have determined that I should live in The Slope, because the clothes! Oh my! I bought a shirt. I didn't mean to! I hadn't bought anything all month! I was saving money! But D and MY went into the bike shop and I had nothing to do, so I walked into a store and I had to try it on.
We solved Star Wars post-Legos, and D and I headed back to the city where we did absolutely nothing productive. Yes!
On Sunday I had nothing to do, so I decided to see a musical. I saw Company, which was apparently remarkably ahead of its time. I really enjoyed it. I was trying to see Wicked, but I am starting to come to terms with the fact that I may never see it.
This is what happened:
- went to Wicked box-office on 51st
- there was some sort of raffle or something going on, plus I saw someone I knew who I didn't want to talk to, so I walked around a bit and then went back
- returned to box office, waited out raffle, went into box office and was told the show was sold out
- went to TKTS (46th) to get tickets to Spelling Bee
- no tickets at TKTS, so walked back to box office (Spelling Bee is right near Wicked) (51st)
- standing room only (wtf?)
- walked back to TKTS for other interesting tickets but nothing was really exciting me
- began walking to 42nd Street
- got to 44th Street and decided to go to Beauty and The Beast theater on 46th for tickets - but the show had already started! (thus explaining why there were no tickets at TKTS)
- walked back to TKTS just for one last chance at a rare and interesting ticket having materialized
- nothing interesting
- began walking to movie theater on 42nd St.
- passed by poster for Company on 44th St. and decided "I will see that!"
- ran like an idiot to 47th Street and got a ticket 5 minutes before it began
- woo!
I got the cheap ticket - $36 - and the guy behind the window said "The show's not going to sell out, so feel free to move up once the show has started." Word, dude. Yes, I was in the very last row of the mezzanine - I was eavesdropping and apparently the last two rows are $36 and every other ticket is $81 or more. Hah! I totally moved up to the front row of the mezzanine after intermission.
Which reminds me...
Things I WILL Miss About NYC (in no particular order):
* Being able to roll out of bed on a Sunday afternoon with no particular plan in mind and end up seeing a Broadway show for $37. (This is definitely going to be at the top of the list. I caught myself nearly shedding a tear during Company thinking about this. Sniff. Woe. Etc.)
I hit the Amish market and then D's friend S came over for dinner. We drank 2+ bottles of wine between the three of us and had a jolly time.
Trashed, I was.
As of late I have been thinking about marriage because I feel like everyone I know is getting engaged. No, that's not true. I've always known people who were married or engaged. I've been to 12 zillion weddings. I think lately I've been conscious of this because everyone is engaged and all of these people have dated for far less time than I have been dating D. So I'm a little sensitive. Well, I'm a lot sensitive. And it's weird because it's not like I want to be married right this instant. I just have this weird sense of being different, and I don't lik ethat.
Trashed, I was, and so decided to say "D, let's get married!"
Dear god. As the words were coming out of my mouth my brain was in slow motion firing neurons that yelled "Noooo........."
He didn't shrug or laugh uncomfortably or ignore it.
Nope.
He said "OK."
"OK?"
"Yes. When?"
"Ummm... you want to know when?"
"Yes, when?"
"After!" I said, horrified.
"After what?"
"After some stuff happens and then it will be after that stuff happened so it will be a good time."
And we both laughed.
But he said yes.
Tee hee.
I guess we have a verbal contract.
But when? I don't know! How should I know?
I guess this is how men must feel all the time.
I didn't even leave the house yesterday. I read some of Tricked and finished reading The Voice and watched Al Gore with too much makeup warning me about polar bears who are drowning and giant populations of giant jellyfish and CO2 levels etc. Gore can do not wrong, but he was being a little melodramatic. But I don't care, because I will always heart Al. I meant to do some Ebay-ing but procrastinated instead and updated the blogs and talked to Mother for like 3 hours. I made other phone calls but people weren't home, and when they called back I was trying to watch The Golden Globes because I was hoping hopinh hopinh Sacha Baron Cohen would win and give the best speech of all time. Apparently he did both these things, but I missed both because the show was so. very. boring and I couldn't take it and so ended up reading and watching Arrested Development.
And that, folks, was the weekend update.
Brain Age
Everyone's been talking about brain age.
I know that my brain age is probably, like, 55 years old. I don't even want to take the test. I can't stand to know the results.
I think, though, that the suggested brain exercises to decrease one's brain age are a good idea.
For example: do puzzles. Sleep more (over a 8 hours a night, they say! Who has that sort of time?). Eat better. Take a shower with your eyes closed. Brush your teeth with the opposite hand.
I tried to "brush your teeth with the opposite hand" this morning. I didn't believe D when he said it was hard.
That was until I almost stabbed myself in the nose with my toothbrush. Toothpaste everywhere. It was lovely.
The actual brushing of the teeth wasn't hard. It was more having the coordination to get the toothbrush into my mouth that posed the problem. That, and I didn't know what to do with my free hand. It was just sort of flailing and I thought "Hmm... this doesn't seem right - but what would I normally be doing with my other hand while brushing my teeth?"
After switching hands, I realized that I generally put my left hand on the sink while brushing. Interesting. I switched back to the oppoisite hand, and as I was about to plunge my toothbrush into my eye with my left hand, I braced myself with my right hand and voila! Much easier.
I guess these brain games are to get you to think about things that you don't actually think about after they become habit. Things become automatic. And then your brain starts to decay. And then you have a brain age of 55 and can't react quickly to things and can't remember anything you've read in the last year.
Right. I am so going to sleep 8.5 hous tonight.
I know that my brain age is probably, like, 55 years old. I don't even want to take the test. I can't stand to know the results.
I think, though, that the suggested brain exercises to decrease one's brain age are a good idea.
For example: do puzzles. Sleep more (over a 8 hours a night, they say! Who has that sort of time?). Eat better. Take a shower with your eyes closed. Brush your teeth with the opposite hand.
I tried to "brush your teeth with the opposite hand" this morning. I didn't believe D when he said it was hard.
That was until I almost stabbed myself in the nose with my toothbrush. Toothpaste everywhere. It was lovely.
The actual brushing of the teeth wasn't hard. It was more having the coordination to get the toothbrush into my mouth that posed the problem. That, and I didn't know what to do with my free hand. It was just sort of flailing and I thought "Hmm... this doesn't seem right - but what would I normally be doing with my other hand while brushing my teeth?"
After switching hands, I realized that I generally put my left hand on the sink while brushing. Interesting. I switched back to the oppoisite hand, and as I was about to plunge my toothbrush into my eye with my left hand, I braced myself with my right hand and voila! Much easier.
I guess these brain games are to get you to think about things that you don't actually think about after they become habit. Things become automatic. And then your brain starts to decay. And then you have a brain age of 55 and can't react quickly to things and can't remember anything you've read in the last year.
Right. I am so going to sleep 8.5 hous tonight.
Cross
My to-do list includes things like "Call the Bank and complain..."
Because they will not send me the paperwork. I've been calling them for three years! Why must everything be so difficult?
On my list of calls was to call two magazine subscriptions that should have started but didn't. My goal was more to just ask when the first issue would be coming (I subscribed to both in November and expected both December and January issues, but upon checking I learned that one comes out only 4 times a year and the other every other month, so I figured there was just some weird gap or something).
I called both just now and both said that I should have received issues.
Ergh.
What if I hadn't called? They were like "Do you want us to send you the missed issues?"
As if this is a question that needs to be asked! Obviously! Do they expect me to say "Well, I did pay for those issues but I don't really need them. No, please, keep them and my extra money."
I am trying not to fume but it irks me that everything is a battle. It's going to be a joy when I have to change my address.
Because they will not send me the paperwork. I've been calling them for three years! Why must everything be so difficult?
On my list of calls was to call two magazine subscriptions that should have started but didn't. My goal was more to just ask when the first issue would be coming (I subscribed to both in November and expected both December and January issues, but upon checking I learned that one comes out only 4 times a year and the other every other month, so I figured there was just some weird gap or something).
I called both just now and both said that I should have received issues.
Ergh.
What if I hadn't called? They were like "Do you want us to send you the missed issues?"
As if this is a question that needs to be asked! Obviously! Do they expect me to say "Well, I did pay for those issues but I don't really need them. No, please, keep them and my extra money."
I am trying not to fume but it irks me that everything is a battle. It's going to be a joy when I have to change my address.
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