I had a good weekend. This is what I did:

• mopped the living room, dining room, kitchen, and hallway
• mopped the living room a second time when it was still sticky
• washed or put away the laundry on the floor, which was all of it
• vacuumed the kitchen rugs and bedroom
• washed and put away the dishes
• cleaned the bathroom
• watered the grass, two times
• put away the camera stuff that was taking up the entire junk room floor
• put away the camping and car washing stuff that was still out in the yard
• got light bulbs to replace the ones that had burned out
• put away the green sheets and brown blanket and brought back the other ones, which shall be the summer ensemble
• took out the trash and an entire bin of empty cans and bottles

All this makes the house look quite different, which always makes me happy, whatever the reason is. Then Megan came over on Saturday night, but fell asleep at 11:00 as tends to happen, so I went and fixed some stuff:

• upgraded the computer I use for work from "dapper" ubuntu to "hardy," which is about two years of revisions. The automatic upgradamabob thing tried really hard, but crapped out and left behind a big mess that took a lot of dpkg this and apt-get that to sort out. But the point was to get firefox 3 and..
• mediatomb, which is a thing that exports all my video and picture files to be playable on the Playstation. This seems to be working.
• upgraded the slimserver to the new version, which is now called "squeezecenter". It's now all fancy and ajaxy, but thankfully my crazy flac patch still applies cleanly, so it wasn't too miserable to make it work again.
• fixed the Apple computer to be able to print to the communal printer (after much frustration trying to do things the Appley way, it turns out you do this exactly the same way you would have done on linux, by adding the one line "server nightfall" to /etc/cups/client.conf.)

We interrupt this blog in progress to bring you breaking news: some drunk guy just walked into my kitchen. As in, opened the door, came in, closed it behind him, and turned on the lights. This was a little unsettling, but at least I was still up, or I imagine it would have been moreso. A short conversation ensued:

Me: Who are you?
Some Dude: Do you want to sell your house?
Me: No.
Some Dude: (looks around speculatively) You will one day.
Me: This isn't my house.
Some Dude stares at me, apparently confused.
Me: (opens door after the fashion of showing someone out) I don't know who you're looking for, but it's not me.
Some Dude goes back outside and stands on the steps. Me feels rather better about the situation with him not in my house.
Me: Are you ok?
Some Dude is silent
Me: Do you want me to call a cab?
Some Dude: No, no (lurches toward the street)

That never fails. If there is one thing drunk people are sure they don't want, it's a cab. I'm glad the guy left without needing any more encouragement than the door opened, since I don't really know what my escalation path would have been here. He was somewhat bigger than me, maybe like 240 pounds. He also had a bunch of dry grass and crap stuck to his shirt, which makes me think he was passed out (or maybe just fell) in my front yard for a while before he decided to come in.

09 Jun 2008 03:47 PT - persistent link - trackback - 6 comments