Life Without Y&R Isn't Worth Living...

We ask each other the same question every morning, and always with the same cautious optimism. This morning's question came with a fair deal of trepidation as well, because we knew that the answer was a pivotal point in our lives here.

"How'd you sleep?"

So innocent, yet so loaded. And the answer wasn't what we wanted to hear. For my part, it wasn't so bad. Not great, but then I've never been a viking when it comes to sleep (ah, Ralph Wiggum; where would I be without you?). In fact, I'm one of those people who never feels completely rested no matter how long I've slept for. It's a terrible feeling to wake up in the morning and have your first feeling be exhaustion. I know all of us go through it at times, but try having it be your daily routine.

Enough pity party. My answer was non-commital (I learned to be non-commital in the pregnancy--the last thing you want to say to a pregnant woman who isn't sleeping well is something like, "Wow, that was the best sleep I've had in weeks!" Foreign objects are sure to come flying your way). Steph's answer was definitely commital: "Terrible." Okay, well that about solves the "where to sleep" problem. No wait, that just made it more complicated. We've now eliminated our bedroom and the spare room as places to get a good night's sleep. Our next stop: the shed.

Seriously, though, this is somthing that can't go on for much longer before one of us goes crazy. Tonight our arrangements are Steph in the spare room on a mattress on the floor (which is where I slept last night--she was on the bed, which was too creaky and woke her up every time she moved, which was roughly every 1/2 hour) and I'm back in the master. Sleeping apart sucks, but if it's for a short time and so that we both get a good night's sleep, I'll take it.

After almost three weeks of being TV-less, and realizing that hockey season is soon starting up and we'd have no way to get games, we decided to go old-skool and get some rabbit ears for the TV. I haven't worked with rabbit ears seriously, well, ever in my life (I'm sure we had rabbit ears at one time or another; I just don't remember), and it was fun. For the low price of $12.99 (plus another $3.99 to get the contraption to work on a TV made after 1970), we now get two channels: CBC and Global Edmonton. Not bad. I get my hockey, and Steph gets her Y&R.

Those of you who know Steph know that Y&R (The Young and the Restless, for those of you who are uninformed) has been a big part of her life for over a decade now. It's one of the simple escapes that she has, and I think that's great. We're both happy with the arrangement (I also get the news now, which, although occasionally depressing, is good to keep on top of), and I think much bliss will ensue, especially when the opening chords of the Hockey Night in Canada theme song burst forth in a few weeks.

Took another drive tonight, again into the fine city of Red Deer. Checked the odometer; pretty much exactly 100 km one-way. It's a very nice drive that reminds us a lot of the English countryside, if you can believe it. Anyway, the purpose of the trip was to return some books to Chapters (and, of course, we just happened to stop in at the Starbucks while we were there) and get some new pants for me.

Now, I think I speak on behalf of all the men here when I express my deeply-felt loathing for all forms of shopping (except grocery--I can handle that). To me, there's nothing worse than having to buy new clothes. I figure this all goes back to our basic natures as men and women. Back in the day, men were the hunter-gatherers, and I think we take this mentality into our shopping experiences. I, for one, go into a store with a purpose in mind (in this case, to buy a pair of pants, maybe two); upon entering, I do a quick scan of the store and categorize it in my mind, immediately locating the area that is of direct interest to me. I enter that area, grab basically the first thing that's my size and fits the description (pants: two legs? Check.) and head to the cashier. In my old age I've added the unfortunate stop at the fitting room, because if there's one thing I've learned, it's that the only thing worse than going to the store to buy clothes is having to make an extra trip to the store to return them.

The bags at Old Navy (I buy all my clothes there to keep the number of destinations to a minimum) say, "Shopping is Fun Again!" No wait, my friend, I think we've skipped an important step in that logical puzzle: shopping was never fun to begin with. I, for one, have never associated the word "fun" with the word "shopping." "Fun" = cooking a steak on the BBQ; "shopping" = poking my eye out with a rusty nail. Not the same emotion, I'm afraid.

Although the shopping was eventually a succes, I can't say the same about the dinner experience. We were craving McDonald's (why? "Because he puts an addictive chemical in his chicken that makes you crave it fortnightly, smartass!") and decided that we'd indulge for dinner. But man, was that the worst McDonald's experience, nay, the worst restaurant experience, ever? I think so. Please understand that I spent five years in the quick-service food industry, so my critiques of fast-food denziens are usually fair and honest. That said, this was the worst experience ever.

I'm not sure if un-motivated employees is a side-effect of Alberta's economic boom (some think it is), but man, I've never seen a bunch of slugs like that in my life. Two tills going, three people ahead of me, and I stood in line for 10 minutes. The cashier (who was the picture of the "Smiles are free" mentality that McDonald's embodies) moved at a speed somewhere in between glacial and sleeping sloth. What's worse, when she finally did manage to walk her lazy butt over to get my burger (which was cold, after all that time), she took the opportunity, with my burger in her hand, to stop and ask someone in the back how they liked the CD she lent them. Argh!

I understand that sometimes long waits are unavoidable. But if I wait for an inordinate amount of time, I at least expect some type of apology, even an insincere one. Heck, I at least expect there to be a hearty "Thank you" waiting for me at the end of our transaction. But none of these happened. This economic boom has made workers surly and rude; I can't wait until the bubble bursts and these surly employees who are used to having everything their way figure out what it's like to work in the real world, where you get fired if you suck as badly as they did. Okay, that's harsh; all I wanted was my food in a reasonable amount of time. Bad service makes me cranky (but not this cranky).

Whew. Glad that's out of my system. Got back about an hour ago (only saw two coyotes on the way home--it's really odd to drive for an hour on roads with no lights at all, especially when you're the only car within visual range) and now it's time to hit the hay. After I do my homework. Or make it up. One of the two. That's all for this evening, folks. See you tomorrow.