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Wednesday, Jan. 16, 2002
Futon madness update: Having sorted pieces for hours yesterday, Stu and I discover that there are enough components to assemble exactly 13 complete futons, without having to go on a production run to work up a lot more pieces. If we did, I think it’s safe to say we’d be in the hundreds.

We really have no use for hundreds of futons. Lord knows, I do enough lounging already.


I wonder if I’ve ever taken the time to describe the environment in which I peck out this little diatribe. It would be wondrous indeed to have a second floor loft area with a view, or a lakefront cottage with DSL hookup. Naturally, that is not the case here.

I had to swing some elbows but I managed to wrangle the living room away for myself. A “formal” living room, right off the front door. Having no formal furniture made the room easier to steal, but I’ve always been a little uneasy sitting here, there’s no coziness involved when you’re so easy to spot. Which might explain why I choose to spend the bulk of my time online at an hour unknown to the rest of the tribe here at Chateau Outfoxed. Early, in the hours usually reserved for gathering eggs from hens.

Because I hate having people look over my shoulder. Boy, nothing steams me faster. Ever have that happen to you? You’re sitting there in your reverie, just you and your thoughts, and someone sneaks up behind you and peers at your screen, with all your stuff on it. Stuff that is probably harmless enough in itself, but gives off that eerie glow of culpability in the eyes of others. Diaryland, for example. A harmless enough activity, even beneficial in a soul searching sort of way, but do you let others read it as you type? Voluntarily? I get the shivers just thinking about it.

Having the occupation I have, it’s natural enough to assume that there are all sorts of countertops and cabinets in this little room, and you’d be right in thinking so. Maybe a little too many. Having this much horizontal surface only proves the old adage correct about flat surfaces.

You always have something to put on them.

The clutter is as unhealthy as it is formidable. I could make a decent foundation for a small home out of the paper and paper by products strewn throughout the room. Given enough time, I could probably clean this mess up and remove some of these surfaces. About six feet worth, I’d say.

Just enough room for a futon.

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