FedEx Office aka The Bane of My Existence
I enjoy the crisp, clean sound of the roller-cutter. Aside from that, the trip to FedEx Office is always one of the most anxiety inducing stops for me when I’m out running errands. I always know what to expect the moment I park my truck; one person is going to sound overly happy and wish me a wonderful day, while everyone else is going to stare me down in a way that makes me feel like they’re waiting for me to steal something, at least two of the employees will be downright rude for no apparent reason, and even if I only have one simple task to achieve, it’s going to take at least a half hour(if I’m lucky) to get the task accomplished. To say I hate or loath going to FedEx Office would be an understatement.
The only solace I really find is when using the roller-cutter. It’s the only thing I can count on to work properly every time I’m in there, and I love the sound it makes as it slices through each sheet of paper as it makes perfectly straight lines. I zone in on the sound, and shut everything else out…slice, turn, slice, turn, slice, turn. Then I admire the neat and tidy appearance of the end result, right before sliding the scraps into the hole in the table that’s labeled “Trash Only”. That’s the only confusing part of the whole cutting process, why not label it “paper only” since it’s directly under the roller-cutter? Doesn’t ever bother me enough to ruin the zen of the final step of my errand though.
Today was both good and frustrating, woke up to breakfast in bed. Nothing fancy, just some hot cereal with butter and brown sugar. Then Dan and I took off to cash our checks at the bank, before doing a quick Target run. By quick, I mean terrifying. I get so freaked out over some of the stupidest things, and underwear shopping is one of them. They never have the right cut, size, and color in the package deal, and shit’s expensive buying it separately, and then to make matters worse, if you do buy them separately in the little bins, they are always mixed up and in the wrong order. Something that seems like such a simple task for most is a fucking nightmare for me, and the longer I’m in there, trying to find the Holy Grail of the women’s underwear department, the higher my anxiety grows. I finally settled on 4 pairs of the same exact thing, and 1 pair that I wasn’t too hip on, but it was the right cut and size. I’ll dub them as the period pair aka first to be destroyed!
To try and calm myself before going to the counter, I hit the shoe department to find a cheap pair of comfort, since walking on wet pavement in my other two pairs usually leads to immediate wet socks. Usually, this is also a very frustrating task for me, but Mossimo had some all black Van’s knockoffs, and since Van’s is what I usually buy when I can afford to drop $60 on a pair of shoes, I was kinda stoked on them. Dropped the insoles from my old shoes into them, and they already feel like I’ve had ’em a few months. Comfortable shoes are important, and one of the few items I’ll usually buy new.
After Target, we went to grab some food. Southern Kitchen is a place we’ve been wanting to try forever, so we headed towards Sprague and 6th ave. I’m sure I’m gonna catch some flack for this, but I really wasn’t all that impressed. I had some damn good southern food when I was in New Orleans last year, and to be honest, I thought Popeyes was better than this place(especially in the beans and rice department). Everything on my plate was pretty bland, but the sweat tea was perfect.
I was hoping to get some work done for the label today, but I didn’t realize just how much shit I needed to get done before leaving on Saturday, and I don’t want to spend all of Dan’s vacation busy, doing my own thing right before I leave for another tour. Old habits die hard though, and here I am, typing my blog at 3:55 am. This will be the second night in a row we haven’t gone to bed at the same time, but it’s always the last minute when I really start getting shit that’s tour related finished. Plus it’s super hard to sleep the closer I get to a new adventure. I get so excited.
My score of the day was at the dollar store, I was looking for stickers. It’s the final touch I add to my books; how I close the paper CD covers I make that are glued in the back. I’m very particular about the stickers I choose, and they happened to have these super fancy letter stickers for scrap booking. I went through and grabbed every sheet of the letter “Z” they had that wasn’t missing any stickers. Each sheet has 2 large “Z’s”, 26 Medium, and 24 small. Once I had rounded them all up, and counted them, I cringed…16 sheets, which equals $16, but on the bright side, it’s 832 stickers total, so in the long run, I wouldn’t have to buy any more stickers until I had made 832 books. So I forced myself to walk away without putting anything back on the shelf, grabbed some glue, and headed to the checkout. Come to find out, each sheet was only 25 cents, so I spent less than $7 the whole trip! I felt relieved. It’s the small things like this that can really change the way your days has been going, especially after the stupid copy machines wouldn’t work right, and I wound up spending way more on copies than I had intended.
After the dollar tree, I was speeding home, when I realized I totally spaced picking up some blank CD’s. By the time I arrived home, it was already 8pm-ish, and I still wasn’t done running around. One of the nice things about having a job, is I’m finally paying back some cash that was owed. Last couple of paychecks I took care of some studio time I owed Joe down at Suburbia for recordings I never even did anything with, and today, I finally payed Bri-Bri for the PA he let me have for 2 bills back when Bastard Child broke up. Slowly but surely, getting my debt paid off. I’m hoping to start chunking away the 2 grand I still owe my mom and step-dad from 8+ years ago before the end of the year. I have one more personal debt I gotta take care of, and then I’ll start setting some money aside to finally pay them back. One step at a time. Feels good to have Bri-Bri paid off though. What I didn’t buy was my ticket to the Smoke Out Rally, but I only got about $200 left, and Dan and I had plans to go camping this week, plus I need gas to drive South this weekend.
I’m going to get that fucking ticket though. My mind is made up, I’m fucking going. I haven’t taken a no computer/no cell phone vacation in almost 5 years, I think I fucking deserve it, plus Matt and I haven’t taken an out of state adventure together, and I really want to do it. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a motorcycle, and I think heading to NC with a back pack and awesome company is just the thing I need. I’ve been working my ass off almost non stop on multiple projects since I got back from Mayhem Festival last summer, and I’m fucking exhausted.
Been toying with the idea of learning how to ride myself here lately. Dan didn’t think it was a good idea before, because I’m so all over the place, but now that I don’t drink and drive, and I’m more focused in general lately, I think I might be able to be a more responsible rider. This time, he didn’t object. My main reason behind the desire is I want to go faster, so I’m sure if I start riding, there’s gonna be a lot of tickets in my future, but at least no DUI’s. Idunno, it’s just a thought I’m toying with, kinda like the idea I had a few months ago about cutting off my left breast. Gonna sit on it a while, and I doubt much will come of it because face it…there’s no room for the bass on a bike.
Well anyway, I’m fucking tired. I got 20 books finished, ready to go with me to Salem this weekend, made 500 buttons tonight with Dan’s help as advertising trade for “Wake Up 253”, and I need to get some work done tomorrow so I can try and get more than 10 hours in this week. I really don’t want to be waking up around 1:00 am again like I did today, but that’s probably unavoidable. Every time I say today, I really mean yesterday, because it’s now 4:31 am.
Good night internet, I spend more time with you than anyone else, and I need to sleep if I’m gonna kick this cold before the weekend.