25 hours left to accomplish something worthwhile in 2003

Are you going to make it? Whether or not I do, or already have, is largely a semantic debate, but at the very least we’ll be partying at Marta’s tomorrow night as if every new-year’s doomsday prediction ever made will come to grim fruition on the first. If they do, at least I’m saved a hangover.

So how did your Non-Denominational Winter Break turn out? Mine went over without any major complaints, although I just realized, after unpacking in Seattle, that I left three shirts hanging in my little brother’s closet. I can’t visit the Harbor without leaving some vital article of clothing behind, like a calling card made in a Malaysian sweatshop. In any case, I drove up to Seattle to drop Kelly off at the airport (she’s in Baja, and Ofie is in my possession) and see Marta on Friday night, then went to the Point Defiance Zoo on Saturday, where it was cold, rainy, and under construction. None of these things would have been a problem, except that a) I insisted on wearing my new Chaco sandals and I soon stopped thinking of my ice-covered toes as body parts, more like you would think of the legs of a chair, b) Marta had never been to the zoo before, and I hadn’t since the construction began, so we got lost more or less constantly, and c) they tore down the World of Adaptation exhibit, where they used to keep the lizards, scorpions, bats, and other creatures of the dark. When a zoo employee informed us of the change, I was a little relieved that my inability to locate the building was legitimate, rather than a sign of retardation, but I still choked back spiteful tears. How could they raze my favorite exhibit? They also replaced the shark exhibit inside the aquarium with something on sea horses, the sexually ambiguous pansies of the sea. We were disappointed, but thankfully Rocky Shores, home to ET the walrus and my personal favorite, the beluga whales, was untouched.

Now I’m back in Seattle, and my apartment is home to a mysterious, sour odor. I thought it was the milk bottle we had waiting to be recycled, but I threw that out and the smell remains, no doubt growing more odious by the day until it’s so overpowering that we can find it by simply following the discolored air. It’s a shame, really, since the apartment is so clean otherwise. Marta bet me $10 that my bathroom wouldn’t be clean by New Year’s, and today I finally hammered the final nail into the coffin of that wager by scrubbing out the tub. It gleams like the tusk of a just-poached African elephant (happy politically-incorrect analogy day!), so I think she owes me the money. In retrospect, I think I got taken for a ride; I’ve spent well over two hours making my disgusting bathroom once more habitable for humans, not to mention the cleaning supplies and new shower curtain to replace the old one, which was inanimate only by a technicality. I’m fairly certain this whole bet was an elaborate ploy on my girlfriend’s part to get me to clean my bathroom. At least I have $10 now.

Fluff the cushion underneath you, snuggle deeper into Grandma’s quilt, breathe deeply of your hot cocoa’s intoxicating aroma, and let me tell you the story of Christmas’s greatest tragedy. It struck someone very close to me: me. Remember hearing about the coffee maker my brother got me for Christmas? Friday night I tried to assemble it and met only with disaster. To make espresso, you have to insert the filter holder into the proper slot, then turn the handle to the right until it’s within the “safety margin”. I was following the directions (I thought), trying to do this, but could only get the handle to turn about a half inch before it stuck fast. I scratched my head, tried it different ways, retried, got frustrated, then finally tilted the appliance on its side and applied my full weight against the plastic handle, twisting the bejesus out of the thing. Of course it snapped clean off, and I fell across the jagged edge of plastic, gouging a line into the side of my fist. I swore very loudly. I left an expanded version of this story on Kelly’s voice mail, and she showed her sympathy by laughing loudly in the middle of the airport terminal.

Two other news items, then I must go. First, I will report on the above personal tragedy, as well as many others, I’m sure, on the pages of the Daily next quarter, in my usual spot. Second, it’s snowing in Seattle! My back patio is already coated in a light dusting. Marta, Bryan, and company just arrived and are pulling me outside, so we’ll talk later.