Home Sweet Home

Well, believe it or not, after three weeks and three days, I'm back at the Poderosa. For good.

It was a big day, a "moving day." I actually brought one load of stuff home yesterday, clothes, shoes, my clarinet, books, all those videos.... But still had masses of stuff to bring back today. Mom and Dad helped me pack all the rest of it in and brought me back home. After everything was unloaded and sitting in my kitchen, it was time to say goodbye. My mom cried. Her greatest joy in life is taking care of people. I guess while I was at their house, she was truly fulfilled.

I knew today was the day to move, because I finally finished my puzzle. See, probably well over a year ago, I bought a jigsaw puzzle. I do this about once every three years or so. But this one was really cool. 1000 pieces, and it was every character ever to appear on "The Simpsons." (up until that time, anyway) It was very cute, until I started working it, then I realized, "You know, every character ever to appear on 'The Simpsons' bascially looks exactly the same."

I started the puzzle on the third day after I got home. At first I'd just work on finding edge pieces, and I couldn't sit at that little card table it was on for very long. But as I got better (and boreder) I'd spend more time there, until it became something of an obssession for me. And I knew I couldn't move back home without finishing the puzzle.

I almost did it last night, I got to maybe 50 pieces to be placed, 50 pieces I'd looked at till my eyes crossed, and finally left it for bed. Then this morning, I attacked it with a vengence, and around noon, it was complete. I said with zeal, "Now I can go home!"

Once I was home alone, I began by cleaning the kitchen cabinets, then went about putting away the remaining clothes I brought home today. A load of laundry, then my old nemesis fatigue set in, and I curled up in The Comfy Chair (The Comfy Chair! I was back in The Comfy Chair!) and checked out some of the cable channels I've missed since being at the folks' house.

First to get a try was BBC America. I saw where they're now showing "The Saint" in the afternoon. I watched the show, and even though it wasn't something I was expecting a big bang out of, I couldn't enjoy the thing at all. This is because I'm a pod, and things bother me way more than they should.

Simon Templar was looking for a missing scientist. He went to Germany, checked into the hotel the man had been staying at. Right off the bat he told them his name, where he was from, and said, "By the way, I'm looking for Ernest Roelling." Well, that alerted the desk clerk, who soon alerted the Ugly American who was holding Roelling hostage, and, well, it all came out OK in the end, but Jesus. Isn't the main objective of a spy to remain anonymous?

But that wasn't even what took me away from "enjoying" the episode. When Simon checked into the hotel, he was given room 315. I remember this distinctively, because I said - out loud - "geez, not very high up." Then when Simon got on the elevator and got out of his bellboy what room Roelling was in, it was room 712. Simon then made the bellboy take him to the seventh floor so he could break into Roelling's room and snoop around. (Another superb move of anonymity on his part.)

Now - for the entire rest of the episode, Simon Templar's room was - Room 712! The maid went to his room and it was 712, and it was mentioned two other times that his room was 712! Did the BBC not hire continuity teams back in the 60s? Did they not count on weird people like me watching their shows 38 years later and being driven crazy?

I want to know what happened to room 315!

Anyway, the episode was full of women fainting when the bad guys as much as grabbed their arms, and the Ugly American talked exactly like Mickey Spillane, only he called everyone "baby." And he slapped a woman in the face, and she wilted and sumitted. Boy, am I glad those days are over.

Anyway, glad to be home. Will be glad to try and get back into normal life. As soon as I find out what that is.