I’m hoping that the raging thunderstorm outside su…
I’m hoping that the raging thunderstorm outside subsides before I have to go to sword practice tonight. I don’t mind riding my motorcycle in the rain, mind you. It’s just riding in the rain in Taipei traffic that irks me, especially when I am not headed home for a nice hot shower, soup and change of clothes. Yes, in that order.
Opening night is tomorrow. It should be interesting, if not to see if we can actually finish the play but also to see if the players not on stage can actually stand to be cooped up backstage for several hours without making noise or getting drunk. Well, without making noise, anyway. Carl, aka Cromwell in the play, brought some posters over to my office today, and we then took a taxi down to IKEA for lunch. Apparently it’s a favorite haunt of Carl’s, which is interesting if you consider the love/hate relationship he has with IKEA. We walked through the store looking for certain props for the play, and whenever Carl would find himself being drawn to some useless knicknack he would shake himself out of it, reminding himself and everyone else in the immediate vicinity that he had promised himself never to buy anything at IKEA ever again. This happened several times. We both agreed that IKEA should be required to place warning stickers at various highly visible places around each of their stores for the benefit of those patrons easily influenced by bad taste.
I should talk, though. I have bedsheets, a rug, a bathroom mirror, shower curtain, a couple of chairs and tables and a stuffed monkey, all purchased at IKEA, the company that sees fit to give you a souvenier of your momentary lapse of good judgement in the form of a huge yellow receipt.
I went to the hospital this morning, and the doctor told me to get another blood test, as the one I took for my physical could have indeed been fucked up by the double Bailey’s and cheese nachos I had late the night before. I hope that’s the case, anyway, and that I don’t have diabetes, which scares me since I wonder whether having Native American blood makes me more susceptible to getting diabetes. Over half of Native Americans over 45 are diabetic, after all. Scary.