About me.

I haven't written much in a little while because I've been very busy at work, which is really the only place I can write since my Internet at home has been disconnected temporarily. So I thought I would write a bit more than normal today since it seems like it might be a moderately slow day.

I just rode the elevator up from the snack room and I shared it with a man who smelled nicely of Drakkar Noir, which is not a bad scent really, except that a lot of people put way too much on and it can totally become noxious in larger doses. But the man in the elevator had a nice amount on. I haven't smelled Drakkar in years, but it is one of those smells you don't really forget. Smells can be very nostalgic for me. Some smells remind me of family trips to Florida, or my Aunt Bob's house, who is actually a woman; Bob is short for Bobbie Taylor. I imagine when she and my parents decided she would be called Aunt Bob they got a real laugh out of it. I, however, grew up with the name and didn't realized it was funny until I was in my twenties. Her house smells of laundry detergent, hard wood floors, and discrete ancient cigarette smoke that has hidden in decade-old crevaces and refuses to come out, but over time does not smell harsh or irritating, but smells rich and hearty. When I smell any of these things I am taken back to mornings spent on her fold out couch with my brother and sister and cousin watching the Flintstones. Some smells remind me of the summers I worked at Camp Glisson as a counselor, and some smells remind me of the days I worked at Macy's one Christmas time. Drakkar reminds me of those days at Christmas. Drakkar would probably remind me of Christmas anyway because Christmas time means more time at the mall and malls almost always smell like perfume.

I have a tendency towards hypochondria. I went to the doctor last week, but I was really sick, I had a sinus infection, and I considered asking the doctor what a person needs to do if he is haunted by the fear that he might be a hypochondriac. I assumed she would think it was funny, but then she would say see a therapist.

I fear dying of a heart attack because I don't take care of myself. I go in spells where I work out a bit, but it isn't enough to help. But that would be my fault. I wouldn't be able to blame anyone if I died of a heart attack or heart disease or of a stroke.

I also fear dying of some exotic disease that you can't control getting and you never know you have until it is too late like Chaggas or Mad Cow. One of the office secretaries told me about Chaggas a while back and now I fear getting whenever I have a mosquito bite that I don't remember getting. Chaggas is a fungal type parasite that gets into your blood when a Chaggas bug bites you. Actually, the parasite is found in the Chaggas poo which it poos on your skin while it is biting you and you scratch the bite then get the poo in the wound and therefore get Chaggas. Chaggas takes many years to show up, but by the time you show real Chaggas symptoms there is no cure. If memory serves it eats away at your musculature. At first I was not afraid of this because mostly people in South America get it, though there have been some cases as far north as North Carolina. But now I'm more afraid of it because I worry that my doctor will not be looking for such an illness and it will go undiagnosed. In the early stages it is treatable.

Last night as I was decorating my house for Christmas I scratched my finger on a tiny nail. When I pulled back I did not see blood so I didn't think anything of the wound, but later that night I realized that I had bled a little bit, so now I'm wondering if my last Tetnus shot is still good. It must have been over ten years that I had one.

I love Christmas time.

I hate the song Christmas Shoes.

I like just about every other Christmas song, however. I like Christmas trees and Christmas wreathes. I like the little Christmas villages and fancy ornaments. I like Christmas cartoons and holiday specials.

I don't like beer.

Last night as we were decorating for Christmas my kids decided they wanted to go outside with me. It was dark and pretty cold, but I guess outside with daddy was less scary that inside alone, even though I had a Christmas cartoon on the TV. There wasn't much the kids could do in the way of helping decorate. It required a lot of standing on the ladder and holding tons of cords and such. After we had been working for about fifteen minutes my daughter said, "Hey Daddy, let's pretend we're having fun."