Library

I am writing this post from the sunny warmth of the Dennistoun Library. And no, I am not lying. It is both sunny and warm. And there are only two other people in here and one of them is a librarian. Man, what a change from the festering foam of the New York City Public Library. Then again, their video selection was waaay better.

Speaking of festering, I was watching the news and drinking some coffee this morning after Daniel went to work and what should appear on the screen after the news had ended, but my dreaded nemesis: the tv show 'Frasier.'

Anybody who knows me (well) knows how much I DETEST that show. I hate it as much as I love Columbo, or Diagnosis Murder, or Matlock.

Frasier- and by extension Kelsey Grammar (sp.?)- is everything that these shows are not: vile, precious, smarmy (though, Diagnosis Murder has been know to pull some risque shit from time to time), humorless and down right ILL. There is none of the shambling grace you get in Columbo, as Peter Falk and his nutty glass eye caper across the screen, constanly dropping pens and mumbling to himself. There is none of the charm in Dr. Frasier Crane that simply oooozes out of Southern Gentleman lawyer Ben Matlock (ably played by tv luminary Andy Griffith); and above all, there is none of the joie de vivre of the humble chimneysweep-turned clarinet-tooting doctor, Mark Sloan. There is nothing but emptiness in the sleazy guffawing of Frasier Crane and his persnikety, mewling little brother, Niles.

How has it followed me here? How and why?

Moved in.

I was going to name this post Movin' Out, in honor of the original musical based on songs by Billy Joel, but then I sobered up.

We are finally moved in-that is, most of our stuff from Fraser's house has been moved in, but there are still a few things left: Butter, knives, ginger, clothing rail, dvd player, stereo...

Our apartment is really nice. There is a lot of space and we don't have much furniture (despite and enormous Ikea binge), so it is going to take time for it to feel normal.

We slept on our mattress on the floor in the living room, because our plan to assemble our bed in "less than 2 hours" turned out to be nothing but pipe dreams. You would THINK that if you were getting something you are supposed to be able to put together yourself, they would make it simple; and indeed it seemed that they HAD, at 5 in the evening... but 5 eventually turned to 9, and then to 10 and still we did not finish the bed. It nearly killed both of us, and we nearly killed each other. So we will tackle it again tonight, with a bit more of a sense of humor and with luck, the fucking screws will FIT.

Anyway, the point is, we are in our apartment and it is great. Now I can begin to scrape together the semblance of a normal life.