We totally just had a fire alarm, complete with the ear-piercing shriek of some newfangled alarm system. (As a fellow apartment-dweller lamented, I miss the old fire alarm bells that they had in elementary school.) No word yet on what the cause of the false blaze was, or when my hearing will return.

I (erm) was just getting out of the shower when the alarm hit, so that was lots of fun. Highlights included:

1) “If those sprinklers that are in every room go off, I’m not going to be happy. I’ve got a $4,000 computer in my place,” said Guy A. “But I’m buying insurance, so I guess it’s not that big a deal.” My response: “If those sprinklers go off, I’m going to be paying my insurance bill.”

2) Guy B works at UPS in the evenings, and recommends that you never ship anything via them. Guy A quips “Universal Package Smashers.”

3) When the shrill alarm shut off, the three of us (there was one gal outside, but she didn’t bother chatting, nor joining us) wandered back inside. We met a handful of firefighters who were headed towards the stairs, who we asked (while turning around, since we knew the answer) if we could head back to our rooms. They BSed with us: oh, no! It’s totally not safe! Look at the smoke filling the hallway as we speak!

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I have absolutely no regret about missing the false fire alarm events of the dorms.

Moving out of your parents’ house is going to frickin’ blow your mind, man. I’m far too boring for that to happen; it’s been more of the same, but in a different place—with a handful of new things to keep track of. More disruptive than living on my own was moving, quite seriously.

Really, the only significant freedom I’ve gained is the freedom to have Brian over without having to first ask if my family would mind. Woo. (Hot chicks could change this—attention, hot chicks!)

Something about peeing without having to shut the bathroom door. My bathrooms (yes, I have two (!)) both all but face big ol’ windows that have a pretty good view of Ninth Street (a fairly major street in town), so this… isn’t really an option.

You’ll notice how awfully quiet it is. The constant parade of friends that come by fundamentally introverted nature of my person hasn’t really noticed this. The first couple days—when I didn’t have internet, cable TV, or any magazines to read—I did feel a bit cut off from the world; now that I have a cable modem, basic cable, and a subscription to US News, I really haven’t noticed/minded the quiet. I guess it helps that my family is still all in the same town, so it’s not like I can’t see them often.

…

Yeah, I really should have titled this post “Lies Eric told me.” My bad. (In fairness, his observations were from his college years, with his parents in a different state… and he’s a far more interesting person than I am.)

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I really am glad I can go home and see my folks and pet my dog and cat, though. While I really don’t want the responsibility of owning a pet (no-pet-clause of my lease notwithstanding), I really do love dogs and cats. My folks are pretty nifty, too.

1) Life is a constant battle—against expiration dates. Used to be, back when my sister and I lived with our folks, that we could pretty much buy any food, in whatever quantity was even remotely reasonable, and it’d be devoured before it started growing things. Not even close, now. While the most that’s gone bad on me has been some grapes and an onion, I find I’m cutting my milk and bread expirations much closer than I’d like.

2) Mopping is a pain in the ass. (I knew this before; I’ve just reaffirmed it.) Sweeping, dusting, vacuuming, washing dishes, scrubbing counters and sinks, cleaning toilets (provided they’re my own)… I’m cool with that. Give me what I need to get the job done, and I’ll do it. But sweet jeebus do I hate mopping.

3) It gets awfully quiet without others around, which is why the drunk guy outside yelling WOOOoooOOOOO!!! was created. Thank you, drunk guy. You’ve done your service well. Now please go home.

4) Some things are still shipped by train. And all the trains that pass through town—more than I ever imagined—go by my apartment. (Fun times!)

I know the question you all have on your mind: is this blog dead, or what? To answer that, I’ll just point out that a few days ago I spent the bloody time to upgrade my Movable Type install to version 3.31.

My time management skills remain dormant, however—and moving has just exacerbated everything. I’m all but done pulling my stuff out of boxes, though… feeling good about that. I also have (ultra-basic) cable, and high-speed internet, so I’m pretty much set.

I still need to mop the linoleum, though… and it seems that the trains that run next to my apartment knock up a huge amount of dust. I live on the fourth floor of my complex, and the dust has just been huge. (Yes, I’ve been keeping my windows open—looks like I’m going to have to modify that.) Ugh.

I’m more or less moved in to my new place, but getting internet access has been a major PITA. Surprisingly, most of that hasn’t been Comcast’s fault (in fact, Comcast has been the most pleasant company to deal with); most of the pain lies at the feet of Circuit City’s broken “sign up for internet through us” website. (If you want in on those types of deals, do the deed in-store! Learn from my pain!)

Long story short, I signed up for internet service—but then got cut off at the knees when I tried to order my (free after rebate!) self-install kit and modem. Without the service activation happening on the same order as the purchase of the modem et. al., I wouldn’t get my rebates—so no free stuff for me. Perhaps more importantly, no bloody internet (not even an unrestricted wireless router!) for all of this last week—and multiple hours wasted either on the phone or in repeated trips to the closest Circuit City (just under an hour-long drive). Gya.

I anticipate rejoining the modern age on a permanent basis sometime Monday, when my not-free-but-at-least-cheap cable modem arrives from NewEgg.

So, for now, I stop at my parent’s house and use their bandwidth every once in a while. There’s nothing quite like checking my email and loading as many web pages as I can for later perusal.

Your latest album is not a rock album. You’ve failed to shed the country-rock shackles you were so desperate to flee after alienating your fanbase. (Not that I care about your political views; you’re as qualified to have your views as I am mine, and I don’t hold that against either of us. Still, though—that was a dumb career move.) Not Ready to Make Nice is the closest you come to pure rock, but… one song a CD does not make. Usually.

If my opinion isn’t enough, consider that my sister bought your album from the country section of Best Buy. There might not have been a lot of thought involved in that decision—but it’s certainly a decision made by a rather large player in the distribution channel.

(Incidentally, I haven’t listened enough to be able to tell if this album is good country-rock; that will have to wait for repeated listening. As for country-rock versus rock, though… uh… I know it when I hear it.)

(The above is a bit of wisdom from Battle Athletes Victory.)

I’m finishing up a few details, but am all but moved into my apartment. I’m using the term “moved” in a literal sense, meaning “all my stuff is in the apartment.” Next up is getting things into a semblance of order.

The downside of this move is that I’ll be cut off from the internet for a while. If I want cheap internet access, I need to be a Comcast customer first—and the Comcast guy isn’t going to be out to provide me with ultra-basic cable until Thursday. Add in the setup time to get cable internet after that, and… unless someone’s foolish enough to provide unprotected wireless internet, I’m going to drop off the map for a while. Not that y’all would notice, the way I’ve been sporadically posting lately.