noah, are you stalking me?

i seem to have a lot of two's lately.

sure, now that i have vocalized it, i won't be able to think of anything to support that statement. let me take a stab at it, though...

i worked from 5:30 this morning until 8:15 tonight.

on the way home-after ordering pizza from my current regular place, hot mama's (regulars are important to me, i've got a little rain man in me) i set off for home. natch, i told the chico on the phone i would just have whatever i ordered last time..."your regular, chris?" he says, the smile obvious in his voice.

ouch.

i don't mind being consistent. i do mind being a "creature" of anything, habit included. and why is it that near strangers are close enough to me to point out my consistency, but my boss isn't?

i think one of those folks is likely a better, happier person than the other. agreed?

as i am walking home, waiting for a crosswalk light to change-as i do on occassion-i hear someone say, "howdy, chris". looking over i see a former colleague of mine from macy's that i worked with in portland. he and i have run into each other randomly since i moved here. more now that he has moved to town, too.

little bitch-bear has lived here a year and has a boyfriend. a live-in, no less. how's that supposed to make me feel? pissing and moaning as i like to about how undateable this town is.

grr.

anyway, this is the second time in three days i have run into him. we both head into the same murder mart. me for beer, him for ice cream. i'm thinking about my pint of ben and jerry's in the fridge. yum.

top it off with the fact that the place they live-did i mention they live together?-is hardly two blocks from me.

i get home and check my email as i unwind with a beer, waiting for my pizza goodness.

i have a message from a guy i have been trading emails with. zane. my age-ish, good job, house, seems nice and balanced. my sister would definitely approve. this is the second email i have gotten from zane in a week since we started chatting. before now, one every ten days or so.

as i am responding, my mind drifts to my friend jz-squared. one of the "z's" stands for...zane. great. now i have two of them. it's not like i met a couple of guys with a common name like, oh, chris. zane. awesome. top it off with him being twice jz-squared's age.

my phone rings...pizza girl. buzz her up. pay. "good to see you again, is it bad that i'm a regular?" i ask. "nah...i see lots of single guys a couple times a week. kinda surprised you became one, though. pizza always seemed like such a treat for you, not a basic food group like some guys". i'm a regular. oof da.

i just look at her as she stuffs my tip into her shirt-who still does that? she giggles and heads for the elevator. it's probably elevator #2.

i'm feeling better as i watch my latest netflix and eat pizza. lucky 7 is the flick. i think this may break the cycle. i realize i am serving myself two slices at a time.

setting aside my second pizza of the week, half through, i toddle off to the freezer and dig into a pint of cake batter ice cream. convinced now that i am really bucking the trend numerology seems to be dialing me into.

until i realize...it's my second pint of the week. damn qfc and their two-fer sale!

Impulse Control

I've begun this stage in my life where I simply feel overwhelmed by urges. (Again)

Food.

Sex.

Drink.

Opinions.

And sometimes, thank god, overwhelmed by apathy and therefore ill-prepared to act on those urges.

Going to the grocer. It's rainy season here in Seattle, after all.

Picking someone up. Which usually involves going from the couch to the computer.

Ditto, grocer. Which has on occasion fostered my urge for sex, too.

Waiting for the right moment to tell someone they are an idiot or a boob. Which has sometimes fostered sex as well. What is it with people being turned on by being told off?

This morning, I awoke with a fairly ambivalent mood hanging over me. The generic surprise at having woke up yet again wearing off fairly quickly. I seem to be getting comfortable with my persistent existence. Plodding to the can. Brushing my teeth while thinking about whether to simply hop in the shower and get clean. Somehow ending up in pants with a toothbrush still in my mouth.

Decision made. God bless auto-pilot. Sometimes I get all the way to work's door in this mode!

I pull on a t-shirt and consider a jacket, with just enough ambivalence left over to end up with a sweatshirt and jacket.

My latest impulse control seems to be running for the elevator.

I can hear it coming. I live right next to the shaft. I like to imagine who's coming or going at night as I tick off the floors it passes. It's a wonderful use of insomnia, since I don't know what floor the damn thing originated on.

But when it hits my floor, I want to run for it.

Which is what I did this morning. Simply gave in to the urge.

There I was, jacket on yet unaware I was actually preparing to go anywhere, as the elevator ascended toward my floor. I had heard one of my neighbor's doors close, so I knew a ride was nigh.

So, I bolted.

Wherever the hell I was going, it needed to be now, damn it!

But my phone did not make the jump with me. Which is kind of fine, I have been hating my phone lately as it impulsively shuts off in the middle of conversations two or three times a day as it gives into it's own impulses-call it engineered obsolesence. I can't finish a call on it on my own time frame without being tethered to an outlet. Very frustrating.

Thank god I at least had my wallet.

No umbrella either. Hopefully the rain into which I emerged was part of "showers with sunbreaks" and not a downpour for the day, as recent days have been.

So I end up walking into Sugar for some coffee. How the hell I managed to have a magazine, wallet, ball cap and no idea where I was going...it's a miracle I have made it this far.

My favorite barista and young friend, JZ-squared says to me as I walk in, "You got my text!"

Negatory, good buddy. Just ended up here. Left the phone at home.

My impulse control issues must be destiny, though. There I was, overcome by the urge to be somewhere to the degree that I end up there practically before I even realize that I have left home. Pleasing a friend with my mere appearance. The conversation we had was one of my favorites in recent days. Just about nothing...the magazine I had managed to grab, my disheveled appearance, pie baking, sleep, music, art, travel and assorted whatnot.

Here's to not asking questions and just going with the flow.

And now it's sunny.