Brettia

I used to look forward to weekdays as if they were holidays. Now, they’re just days when my parents are home, and I can go do things. This is a double-edged sword, however, because the freedom to do things comes with the threat of possible enslavement to do tasks such as cleaning stuff and weeding things and moving random objects around. The work isn’t really as bad as it may seem; it just feels that way because I’m not used to having to do much manual labor. My physical movement is normally reduced to typing and getting up once in a while to get a drink or do some chore or eat lunch. At least my fingers are strong and nimble.

Friday was the dentist appointment, where I had some of the remnants of crud that my braces left behind cleaned off. My teeth are now 22.3141592653589% better looking, though I doubt anyone will notice. After the appointment, which amazingly took only about 20 minutes, (usually there’s an hour wait followed by an agonizing hour of sitting bored in the Chair), my brother and I were conscripted to work in the garage with my mom, where we threw out old things that we’d had since living in Salt Lake along with the garbage and boxes that had accumulated since moving to Phoenix.

Garage-cleaning on a 100-degree day is hot, unhappy work, and we were happy to jump in the pool after we were finished. The rest of the day was spent vegetating on various couches and playing video games.
Saturday was much more exciting, since I went over to Jim’s house in the afternoon to hang out and possible sleep over. Dylan came too, and we ended up in Jim’s swimming pool for four hours, beating eachother to death with foam noodles. This was not some simple, benevolent, soft hitting that was going on here. Jim was declared Holy Emperor of the pool because he wielded the Golden Noodle, and Dylan was declared a heretic for stealing and then wearing a holy relic, the Face-Mask of Extreme Nerditude. I was the embodiment of a hurricane, taking two noodles and whirling them about fast enough to knock someone out with a good hit. I was also known as the Smurf and the Pink Menace because of the color of my noodles.

I won’t go into the details, except that there were many coup d’etats and angry assaults upon the Papal Realm, but it was certainly fun. At the end, exhausted and beated, we crawled inside to change. Then Jim started up his computer and we played Heroes of Might and Magic III in multiplayer mode. Generally, the object of the game was to build up a town and collect resources with your knights and their armies. After pillaging your lands, you had to invade someone else to gain more, until you had conquered all the towns. It was quite addictive, and we played from 8:00 until 5:00 AM, when we decided to go to bed because Dylan had to practice at the golf course at ten. Sleep really didn’t work, but we did end up getting three or four hours worth in the end.

Dylan left at 10:30, and Jim and I continued to play HMMIII until I left at 1:30. Before leaving I glanced at the trash can where we had been throwing away our soda cans during the night, and I was shocked to find that there were at least 15 cans in there. No wonder my hands were shaking.

Even after the happy little sleep-over, the weekend wasn’t over yet. On Sunday we (my family and I) went to my dad’s friend John’s house, where we ate salsa and appetizers and all kinds of other food. I was going to swim, but I decided against it since I was still pretty exhausted from the night before. Probably the result of coming off of a major caffeine high.

Today (yesterdayby the time I post this, or in other words Monday) I didn’t do anythng major except see the movie The Day After Tomorrow. Oh, and John and his family and a few friends of his came over and we all had biscuits and gravy made by my mom. She rocks at cooking.

And now you’re caught up. Was there anything especially philisophical or enlightening here? No, but maybe next time. Right now, I must fall into bed.

“Can we just stop stopping so that we can go!” - Me, in Wal-Mart (of all forsaken, hellish places), struggling with a heavy hammock that I had to rest on the floor each time my mom would stop to look at something, which was about 20 times.