Back in the day when I was a spring chicken college student, I had incredible stamina. School, work, play all on four hours of sleep? No problem. Since leaving the Gothic Wonderland, my sleep requirement has shot up significantly… I think I’m up to like 7-8 hours now, so you can imagine why I’m still recovering from what went down at work last week– the equivalent of college exam week. The stretch of sleep deprivation was notably shorter than a week, but damn, those were some long-ass three days. I was in around 7:30-8 and out at 3 am, 10 pm, and 8 pm. Plus I did more work after I got home. Thankfully, Bubbey held down the fort at home.

So yeah, work was just crazy. Customer visits, presentations, etc. The usual insanity and then some. The week started off badly too: the CEO told me one of the presentations was “piss poor.” Yup, gotta love the constructive criticism on that. Whatev, not like I have that much control over the content or the delivery anyhow. His comment totally rubbed me the wrong way, so I stayed up till 4 working on another presentation. The next day, he again told me that presentation was crap. Fuck it, you know? Ultimately, the customer postponed our presentation twice. Now, days later, we finally have something decent. Still not perfect but at this point, Jesus, how many times can you rework something?! On top of this silly powerpoint, I had to work all sorts of magic to get a vehicle delivered Friday. And holy shit, to my surprise, I pulled it off.

This past weekend, I slept like frickin’ Rip Van Winkle, and even after Monday rolled around, I was still hurtlocker. Gotta love the over 30 period of life: muffin top, curmudgeon outlook, and zippo stamina… Although I will say that the peeps at work were impressed (apparently, it doesn’t take much), particularly because I don’t drink coffee… Whatever, the secret sauce is called OCD: I can’t fucking rest when crap is on my mind. That’s why I’m still tired, because even though I slept all weekend, it wasn’t restful sleep; I dreamt anxiety nightmares half the time.

But enough about work. Work is work. This Friday, I’m going to see the musical Showboat at the San Mateo Performing Arts Center. Last time, John and I saw Miss Saigon there. Sooo good. Can’t wait.

In other news, John’s been seeing a lot of the doctor lately. He went to a migraine specialist, who put him on all kinds of meds. Plus, he had an MRI done. I think that test came back normal, but there ain’t nothing normal about his headaches. He’s due for some big life changes, and he’ll be taking off work next week to address all that.

I watched Infernal Affairs III last weekend. Is it me, or was that movie totally confusing? May need to watch again. I’ve been listening to Cantonese tapes on my commute… didn’t help me understand shit with the movie. I love language learning but I’m such a slow dumbass learner. Sigh.

Ok well time for bed.

I’m such the wannabe bad ass. I got sick of seeing my roots show through the red chunky streaks. It was time for a repair job. Unfortunately, the last time I had dyed my hair myself, I was a freshman in college. Yovanni helped me apply the “red currant” Natural Instincts. I remember I was supposed to leave it in for like 20 minutes. Instead, I did an hour. No fucking change whatsoever. Was a huge disappointment.

So this time, I anticipated similar problems. The lady at the store recommended the dark brown, even though my natural color was black. Fine, whatever. So I left it in for maybe 35 minutes. Turns out 35 was way too long. The result? Initially, I was pleasantly surprised by the uniform color and wonderful luster. But after I dried my hair, I could see, this “dark brown” was like goth black. It was weird: the hair had shine but something just looked off. But what could I do? The dye was permanent. No turning back.

The next day, I was stunned: many of the guys at work (there are only three women) noticed. Not in any flattering kind of way, but whatever. Who would have expected any comment at all, particularly since no one said a thing when I’d gone to work with uneven blond/orange chunks in January. My friend Derek was horrified. Gotta give it to him for being brutally honest, “OMG! What did you do to your hair? It’s so unnatural!” Uh hello, newsflash: did you think random red highlights was natural? Please. After his comment, I starting feeling a bit self-conscious. What if the strong black washed me out? I dunno. But when I got home and looked, it was fine. Yes, very obviously different, but black was black. As a joke, I considered punking it all out– wearing all black and putting on the combat boots, thumb rings, nose rings, and doing the black eyeliner. In the end, I was too lazy for it. Oh well, the take away lesson here? Going darker with permanent color works very well. Lighter– maybe not so well, but darker, watch the process time.

Hmm, I can really see myself getting hooked with hair coloring… so much easier than wardrobe or body changes.

Believe it or not, I’m actually in a decent mood today. The weekend was really good– after what had felt like weeks of incessant fighting, John and I finally called a truce and we had a really nice weekend hanging out. Certainly, the discovery of a good Chinese restaurant helped. I know, you’d think tasty Chinese would be a cinch in this area, but let me tell you, we’ve hit so many bombs it’s not even funny. Frankly, I’d given up on finding decent Chinese. But man, Oceanic was awesome: we ordered enough to feed a village (of course, for us it only lasted two meals). Tomato beef, lemon chicken, mu-shu pork, fried rice… And I got to bust out with my Chinese. God, it’s been too damn long for sure.

The next day, we went biking. Way too windy that day but at least the sun was out. And I’m glad I did something to combat this growth that is my muffin top. I gotta do something about my bike seat though– it is ultra narrow and rock-hard. I thought I’d gauge my level of committment before investing on a $40 gel seat, but at this point, who can suffer through a butt blister? Aside from the seat, this bike is really odd. It has this super bizarro front valve that’s either defective or made for the pro-biker, because I have a billion adapters on my bike pump and none of them can pump air into the front tire. I know, I should just take it in to the bike shop… see what the story is. Of course, I could also just get a new bike– a road bike and one that fits me properly. We’ll see…

On Sunday, I attended a rally: Unite to Fight Global Warming. The idea was that people would ride the train down with Carl Pope (the pres of Sierra Club) from SF to Redwood City. Karen and I would gather the people at the San Mateo stop. Uh, no one showed up. It was just Karen and me. And on the train? It was just Carl and Rafael. A bad start indeed. But once we arrived at the destination, there was a respectable turnout. And Carl was a really good speaker. I’m glad I went. But now I have to get back on track with regular postings on the climate action blog… I’ve been slacking.

No, I’m not announcing a Baby J in the oven… that’s not even funny. Actually, aren’t you weirded out by this mid-week post? Let me just tell you: I am so glad tomorrow’s Friday. This week is bleed week (you figure it out), so I’ve been especially impatient and cranky. That said, I’m doing a little better with the whole work compartmentalization thing. My latest obsession concerns my muffin top. Yes, you heard me right. I was doing so well and then wham! back up on the scale, and the muffin top is overflowing. Somehow I can’t enjoy my new $5 Target jeans (I know, sooo cheap but I swear they look good!) when I feel all this extra jiggle in my stride. Yup. Time for a program. For real. The problem is, unlike my very disciplined, marathon-running friend Joon, I’m an exercise-phobe. Not that I’m a sloth– I just don’t like to sweat. Yes, perhaps the pool is the answer. I’m waiting for it to warm up. The damn condo association doesn’t heat the pool in the winter. And they only heat the hot tub Fridays through Sundays. Fuckers. Sure, they’re saving electricity but damnit, I need my daily soak; otherwise, I’m a raging beotch. But, back to my earlier point: TGIF tomorrow!

Going by how great the weather’s been this week though, I’m hopeful for a nice weekend. Maybe we’ll even go biking again. I was thinking of checking out the horse races too at Bay Meadows, near our former apartment. Not sure what I think about horse racing though… somehow it carries a negative vibe for me, as does dog racing. Am I retarded? Need to look into that. Well at least it’s not like dog fighting or boxing or something ridiculously violent. I should check out the races regardless. I read an intro brochure on it though, and is it me or is betting super complicated? How many degrees do I need to figure that shit out?

What else. Oh, I found my stash of music (well it was on my old lappie)… burning my Jay Chou CDs now. Aw yeah. Ride in tomorrow is going to be rockin’. Speaking of rockin’, have you heard the new Avril song? Ah, to be young, gorgeous, talented, and bad ass. Sigh. Can you feel it? Very soon, I’m going to turn into one of those resentful, crusty, old hags. Might as well start smoking like chimney now. Anyway, I was putzing around Shanghaiist tonight (in my moment of nostalgia), and apparently Avril’s done a version with the chorus in Mandarin. Word on the street is that her Chinese totally sucked, but I actually thought it was decent. And hey, she says it super fast. Gotta give props for not getting tongue-tied. I seemed to have trouble with the lines myself (not that I was boppin’ in front of the computer or anything).

Ok, enough with the chitty chat. Going for a long walk with the pups. They say “hi.”

My grad school roommate was in town visiting this week… Like me, Grace is very low maintenance: she doesn’t have a list of demands regarding things to do, where to eat, and where to go. When I visited her in August, we went shopping, ate grilled cheeses for dinner, and watched a DVD. And it was fine.

Although work’s been super busy lately, we still squeezed in some chill time: watched some TLC WNTW, went through some magazines, shopped (no luck), etc. During the day, she slept in, went running, got sucked into Comcast On-Demand (those bastards!), worked on the computer. She also hung out with some friends in the city– all in all, a full couple of days.

This trip though, I sensed she was a little bothered by my B.A. (bad attitude) on life. She’s an optimist– always has been. On the other hand, I’ve always been the “glass is half empty” kind of gal… but she says this time my attitude is worse. Is that possible? Yes. Certainly, I’m disgruntled and disappointed: idealistic yet pessimistic. She suggested that I look into CBT, cognitive behavioral therapy. I’m not sure what to think. I’m a realist and cynicism just goes hand-in-hand with that. It’s not as if I walk around hating everyone and everything. I just don’t get that excited about things… none of this is anything new, really. I’ve just always been a somewhat drab and depressed soul. I don’t mean to drag everyone down; I just can’t relate to exuberance and I refuse to feign it. Is that so wrong? Is that why I’m losing blog readership? 😛 Too much complaining and not enough action? Hmm. Are they complaints or matter-of-fact reports on happenings? I admit: I do let things get to me. Definitely need to work on that. Step back and chill out about things that cannot be controlled. Jesus, the amount of self-work is endless.

Anyway, in other news, I started listening to Pimsleur Spanish on the drive in. At first I was skeptical about the audio only format, but it’s not bad. And Grace was impressed by my progress (in one short week). I’m on to the second set of CDs now. Hehe. I should pat myself on the back for making it this far on a few of my New Year’s resolutions:
– Stop eating out for lunch everyday at work (they go to the same boring places)
– Start learning Spanish
– Cook more at home

I still have a long way to go with self improvement but all in due time.

So yesterday John and I took the pups to Fort Funston Park in South San Francisco. Fort Funston has an off-leash dog park right on the beach. Remy waded in the Pacific Ocean! She’s such a goober though– she kept snapping at the small waves and she ended up swallowing a bunch of salt water. But the pups had a fun time running up and down the beach. There were so many dogs– we saw an Irish Wolfhound who wouldn’t stop licking Martin’s ‘nads. Poor Marts. Gets harassed every damn time.

Today’s shaping up to be a good day. I’m going to hit the hot tub (gotta start the day off right). Then we’re going to Costco to get a HEPA air filter. My allergies have been really really bad lately… and we now think there’s something in the new house that’s triggering it. Maybe the former tenants had cats upstairs. I dunno. But John was determined to pinpoint the problem. Consequently, for two days, I was not allowed upstairs. He brought everything downstairs for me– my clothes, my contacts, my laptop. The idea was to see if that would stop the serial sneezing (15-20 in a row). It did. So now we know it’s something upstairs… John and the scientific method. Freak.

On Monday, I’m scheduling a visit to a different ENT. I may opt for the full-board allergy test just to know more about my “condition”… already I’m a pretty big wuss, with allergies to pollen, grass, and cats. I just hope I’m not allergic to like wheat or pizza or cheese… that would be a total killer.

Contrary to popular belief, winters in California can get surprisingly cold. As John, Derek, and I experienced that Saturday morning at the Muir Woods restoration project, the rain plus cold was a real bitch. So last Thursday, as the crap weather continued into my morning commute, I noticed my gas gauge was down to three bars. Normally, my gas level doesn’t dip much below half (thanks to my OCD) but this time, I had let things slide. I opted to get into work early, so I procrastinated on filling up. After work, the rain never subsided… I thought about filling up before driving home, but I could hear John’s voice telling me “Three bars is plenty to get you home, especially at 40 mpg.” Maybe I did need to let the OCD rest. Again, I passed off on filling up.

Well serves me right for pushing it to the limit: I nearly shit my pants on the way home. Traffic was worse than usual, thanks to the rain. As the battery bars disappeared one by one, I dreaded the worst: Fuck. Stranded on the goddamn bridge without gas. The angry commuters would probably ram me off the bridge so they could get going! I was about to get screwed. I turned off everything: radio, heat. I don’t know if such things even rely on the gas, but at that point, I wasn’t chancing it. I finally made it across the bridge… just two more miles to go to the ARCO gas station. Then, there was a backup at the exit before mine. There I was, less than one exit away… my palms started sweating. The gas indicator light had been on for way longer than I had wanted AND the final bar was gone. Uh oh, I was running on empty. Running on fumes!! I started wiggin’ out big time. Never again would I ignore my OCD! I should have trusted my instinct. Surely, this day would be my downfall.

Eventually, I did make it to the gas station: the engine choked up it’s final breath just as I rolled into the lane. Whew! As soon as I got back in business with a full tank of gas, I called John. He laughed and called me a “Drama Queen.” Whatev man. I definitely couldn’t expect someone who lives 0.5 miles away from work to understand.

Several days later after the trauma died down, John located the fuel tank size in the manual. I always figured the tank was 10 or 11 based on my receipts. Last week when I filled up, I put in like 9.8 gallons or something. Yup, 0.2 gallons left– I really was cutting it close.

Well turns out Honda doesn’t trust its drivers. The car’s tank is like 13.5 gallons! So the gas gauge is based on on 10 gallons, but there’s 3.5 gallons in padding. 35% backup? Seems a tad extreme, but I suppose that’s good to know. And certainly, in my case, I shouldn’t be complaining. 🙂

On my drive into work last week, NPR did a story on nasal irrigation… The process is this: you shoot a saline mixture up one nostril, and it comes out the other. Repeat for the opposite side. I know, sounds pretty disgusting and senselessly masochistic, and yet, I was sucked in right from the start.

You see, since returning to the States, my sinuses have been driving me up a hairy wall. Last year when I was in California for three weeks, I underwent acupuncture sessions, which helped tremendously, but the effects have since worn off. Now I battle a stuffy nose and major congestion every frickin’ day. So it was time to try something new. Yup, I went out and got the kit. The sensation is not horrible– no burning or anything– still, it’s definitely weird. Afterwards, there’s some residual moisture, and the nose feels really drippy. But eventually, the passages clear out pretty well, like I’ve just ingested a bit of wasabi. I’ve only done this irrigation thing for three days now, so I’m not wholly convinced of its efficacy but I plan on giving it a few more days to see where this leads.

John, meanwhile, refuses to witness any part of this new morning routine. He thinks I should just get the full board of allergy tests through the ENT. Who has time to skin test all these silly allergens?

Other than that, nothing exciting. Just been lying around all day. Just finished watching the Oscars. Didn’t think it would suck me in today, but I suppose I underestimate how easily I get conned. The Departed for best picture? You gotta be joking. Seriously. I was not impressed at all. Lame. And did you catch that glaring error? They said the movie was based on the Japanese film, Infernal Affairs. Because you know, we Asians are all the same, right? Annoying.

What else. Oh, we went to that Muir Woods restoration volunteer event Saturday morning. I think I need to stop all volunteering activities. They always disappoint. First the weather was cold and rainy, which they can’t help, I know. Then the volunteer leader was totally unengaging. I mean, you already have people committed enough to wake their asses up super early on the weekend and brave crap weather… is it that much more to ask that you have some charisma? Finally, our group leader was a stoner, at least John insists she was. She talked ultra slowly, and when we left, she said, “Ok, so you guys are peace out?” I happen to think she was just one of those slow, easy going personalities… John thinks otherwise. Who knows, I have horrible radar for these things.

Well, this day is totally shot. Big meeting at work tomorrow. Calling it quits, because I’m an old fart. Oh, Happy Chinese New Year, my friends. Sorry for the late wishes… hope you stuffed yourself silly. It is the year of the pig, after all.

Obviously, I was a very disgruntled and frustrated person last week. Just when I’d lowered all expectations, my college roomie surprised me with a call. In fact, we even met up last Saturday in the city. I really enjoyed catching up with her. She’s this career workin’ woman– an OB/GYN in the military. Just got stationed east of Napa. In a few months, she’s possibly shipping off overseas. It’s inspiring to find people who love their work. But like I said, it’s nearly impossible to get all three legs on the table of life: work, love, home (place). That’s my theory, at least.

I’ve just been in a crap funk lately. Pessimistic about the world, bitter about everything. Strangely, I’ve recently run into ultra-religious folks– more here than anywhere else I’ve been. In the last month, I’ve had three encounters where I’ve met cool people (except when they attempt to convert me): a coworker/friend, a vendor with whom I had lunch, and my frickin’ masseuse. Yeah, first time I went for a massage since being back, and it was totally NOT relaxing talking about faith and all that bull. I have to say (unapologetically): I am just super anti-religion. Seriously, it’s the root of so much violence, and the Christians, who are adamant about distinguishing themselves from the Catholics, are still pretty annoyingly righteous with their whole “There’s only one true god and it’s ours.” In other words, other people who are believers of other faiths are just plain wrong. And they’re going to hell. So what I don’t get is this: I try to be a good person. I believe in personal accountability. I believe in the power of individuals in enacting positive change. In the most simplified sense, I consider myself good. And yet, by their rubrics, I’m going to hell for the sole reason that I don’t believe. Now frankly, I don’t really give a fuck since I don’t believe in hell or in any kind of afterlife, but I do find the thought offensive. Like if I’m friends with someone, that means I have qualities that person finds likable. How then can he/she accept that I am destined for hell and automatically clump me with Satan’s posse? Am I just their “project”? No, I haven’t read the Bible so I admit, I don’t have a deep understanding of the story, but you know what? I just don’t have the curiosity, and honestly, I feel there’s too much to learn already just from current events.

Anyway, Valentine’s Day came and went. John and I hadn’t been getting along, so this was one attempt to get back on track. I got him a hand blender (I know, aren’t I romantic?) and he made dinner with a bunch of long lost dishes– veggie wraps and cauliflower/truffle oil. Tasty favs from our Raleigh days. The day after, I signed us up for a Chinese cooking class at Whole Foods. The class sucked. I thought we’d have our own cooking stations. Nope. This was like Home Ec class where we broke off into groups and then each group made one of the four dishes. Exactly. Poor planning, and in the end, only one of the dishes was even edible. The others tasted crappy; we didn’t even want to take the dishes home. Still, I haven’t totally given up… maybe a cooking class through the community college will be better.

In other news, John and I hosted a Game Night yesterday. We spent all morning cleaning and prepping. Foods included veggies and dip, veggie pizza, spinach salad, mac and cheese, pot roast, crab cakes, glazed carrots, and cauliflower/truffle oil. Yup, it was a lot of work. Plus, I played my instrument. I was a bit tipsy already from the sake, so the performance was pretty forgettable (at least I hope so). We played some new games: Apples to Apples and Celebrity Taboo. The party was a good time, but I have to say, it wasn’t quite as much fun as the ones I had in Shanghai. It’s just tough to get the group dynamics right. 😛 But I was glad my friends from work made it. It’s good to interact with them in a non-work setting.

We’ll try again. I like having people over. It’s a good excuse to clean/organize the house. Ha, ha. Next time I want to try an international film night or something. On V-day we watched The Departed. What a disappointment. Infernal Affairs was sooo much better and that movie would be perfect for Movie Night. Also, I’m thinking bowling night, roller skating, horseback riding, hot tub… See, this is what happens when you’re desperate for friends– you start plotting more activities than there are weekends in a month.

Jesus f-ing Christ, it’s just been one of those weeks. I swear, I’m going to submit my letter of resignation next week. Ok, I’m being overly dramatic. Still, this was my first week as a full-timer, and my god, I hardly had time to piss and shit. Seriously, worked late every goddamn night, and I’m soooo frustrated.

You see, I’m working with this guy. He’s Muslim, which is fine, but just so you know, he’s the same dude who interviewed me and wouldn’t shake my hand. Remember him? Yeah, at that time, he said, “I see from your resume that you’re feminist and all, but I don’t shake hands.” So whatever. Back then, I thought he just didn’t shake anyone’s hand. I know, I’m the ignorant American who knows nothing about religion, much less Islam. So I just thought it was a custom-type thing… until we went to some customer meeting and he shook their hands. But whatever, I’m not going to take offense over something little like that.

Anyway, the CEO asked me to work with him on cost analysis. I’m like the farthest thing from the business type, so I have zippo interest in cost stuff but whatev. I’m the company’s bitch now. So long story short, I’ve had to spend a lot of time with Mister M. and in the last week, I’m sure I’ve committed all kinds of sins against him. For example, on several occasions, I accidentally brushed against his hand at the keyboard or hit his leg with mine. Poor guy. In both instances, he rolled his chair back away from the desk, and then it was just quiet for a second or two. Sorry, but if he would just let me update the fucking file… I get so impatient watching him make changes that I could make in no time. So that’s the bigger picture. I don’t really care about the religious thing (other than not wanting to totally offend him). But he’s frustrating me as a coworker, because he’s very particular about his Excel files and so am I. We had this meeting with the customer earlier this week, and there were all these complaints that the stuff we presented was confusing or jumbled or whatever, which was actually true. So I really wanted to re-examine everything and try to take an entirely different approach… you know, like just start from scratch. I inserted a new spreadsheet and assembled the data in a way I thought was clearer. But then he liked his way… and we ended up just stepping on each other’s toes all while trying to be cooperative and polite. I’ll tell you though, I was seriously at my wit’s end. And I was getting stressed out too. And sure, I had some mistakes. I’m not saying I’m perfect or that my work is perfect. But so many damn times, I suggested to do something one way, and he refused. Then, later the CEO would come by and suggest the same thing. Wtf? Of course, the CEO never knew I made the suggestion already nor did Mister M. ever acknowledge my comment. After the customer meeting, I also linked everything in Excel, such that if the vehicle quantities changed, we just had to update one cell, then everything would automatically update. But then he was upset I didn’t update his form but rather, I started a new sheet. Ugh. Well I won’t bore you with the details but I’m still frickin’ worked up about it. The conclusion is that he will work with the CEO on the file this weekend. So whatever. I’m letting go. After all the time I poured into this, is that supposed to be consoling?

In other news, my life sucks. I still have no friends, and John and I don’t even get along. Earlier this week, in my pissy state, I was totally going to throw in the towel. I just don’t need this bullshit anymore. I’m really sick of doing all the housecrap, dog crap, plus work. He doesn’t make time for anything except work. After two days of tiffs, he told management they needed to start finding someone else to direct engineering… so things have gotten a little better at home but “us” hasn’t been a priority for a long time. And I guess I need to just move on. I’m going to do shit this weekend. I suggest things all the time, but I guess I’ll just have to start doing them alone: massages, game nights, roller skating. This is what life in the States is all about: work, money, consumption, reality tv (John actually watches Desperate Housewives of OC… WTF???) and separate lives. And certainly, my first week as a full-timer only furthers that point. The poor dogs no longer get their long walks every day. I wake up early, come home late, feed the dogs, wash the dishes, vacuum, sort the mail. Poor Goodbers is now an enjoyment pushed to Friday through Sunday. And it’s not just me. I work with some really cool people but what a shame: they all work crazy hours. This is what life here is all about. I’m turning into a robot once again.

So my plan is to recoup this weekend. I’m going to get my first massage since returning to the States. I was all excited earlier this week, because I got an email from my college roommate. She basically fell off the earth five or six years ago. Turns out the Air Force just relocated her from San Antonio, TX to Vacaville, CA. So she’s literally 70 miles away. Utterly deprived of friendship, I was so psyched about reconnecting with someone. She called Tuesday saying she was meeting friends in the city… I couldn’t join because I was working with Mister M. until 9 p.m. that night. Then I left a message and never heard from her again. She’s one of those people who just disappoints over and over again in the friendship category, and yet I always hope the flame will re-kindle. Guess I got my hopes up for no reason. Another weekend of me time. Yippee.

For the longest time, John and I have been eyeing this big sectional sofa (in chocolate brown though) at Costco. We already have a couch, a sleeper sofa John bought off Craigslist for 100 bucks. It’s crazy heavy and fairly comfortable; the problem is, it’s not wide enough to accommodate both of us when we watch tv. Squeezing the two of us on that thing reminds me of my grad school days when John and I would squish onto a twin mattress. Yeah, totally uncomfortable: he’d get the numb arm, I’d get the twisted neck.

After weeks of deliberation, Superbowl Sunday prompted us (him)into action. This morning, I called on my buddy Hector. He owns and operates Trans-One Moving. We called on him last month in our move from Arsestone. He and his helper did an awesome job. When I spoke to him this morning, he was already pretty booked with other moving jobs, but he fit me in for today… before the big game, no less. You see, that’s the thing about Costco. They have quality goods at affordable prices, but they don’t deliver. And this sectional is in two monster boxes… too much for an ordinary SUV or a van. Hector met us at Costco around 1. We were loungin’ on the new cushy couch by 2. Chips and dip: check. Pulled pork sandwiches: check. Cranberry lemonade: check. Raspberry torte: check. Laptop: check. Aw yeah baby, life is good.