This month marks my four-year divorce anniversary. Although I’ve dated from time to time in the interim, for the most part since then I’ve been a single man. I can’t imagine why.
Being such a catch and all.
For most of that time I’ve maintained profiles on several dating sites, notably OkCupid and POF. I’m not entirely sure why, though. The results have been, shall we say, less than impressive.
It was election day in Boise today. Seriously. Three Greater Boise Auditorium District board seats were up for grabs. As you can imagine, it was a heated campaign.
You practically had to fight your way to the polls.
Image credit: momboleum
This week marks the third anniversary of the opening of the Command Center here in the City o’ Trees. Before that, I lived in a small town near the Oregon border called Homedale. Although in the Boise metro, Homedale is arguably its most remote settlement.
And that’s why I liked it, at least at first.
This is actually over the border a few miles away in Adrian, Oregon, but yeah, like this.
Image credit: Gary Halvorson, Oregon State Archives
Immediately after my separation and divorce, I found myself about four months behind on my bills and living with my grandmother. After getting my head above water, I wanted to not only move out, but get away from things as much as I could. Although I love her and we got along well, being well into your 30s and living with your grandmother is just as awful as it sounds.
So, upon perusal of the local classifieds paper I came across a one-bedroom apartment for $400/month in Homedale. At that point I had never been there before. Turns out it was a 45-minute commute to work, but that didn’t bother me. I’ve done worse.
Like the SEPTA Warminster Line, the whole freakin’ way.
Image credit: jpmueller99
Before I made the commitment, I wanted to visit and see if everything would be to my liking. Specifically, I wanted to be sure the Internet worked, as I had one of those Verizon air cards at the time. So one weekend I went down there and stayed in a hotel, which was one of those old-school stucco and plaster buildings I occasionally saw as a kid. The air card worked, although I could tell I was on the edge of the service area. Meh, close enough. I’ve never been into the MMORPG stuff anyway.
So I moved into my new apartment on Montana Avenue. Although recently remodeled, the building dated to the 1920s and it showed. The carpet was a garish purple pattern which I suspect was ripped out of Cactus Pete’s circa 1965. That was all OK though. I had a place to myself at last, one where I was unlikely to be bothered.
But with no homicidal intent.
The commute was a fun drive. It went past apple and pear orchards, rivers, farmland, canals and, um … Nampa. I even made a point to travel down Chicken Dinner Road every day. No, really.
Over time I got over it all. I didn’t even make it a year before I wanted to be back in Boise again. Then the Command Center came up for sale and here I am. Still, it would be nice to have a property in Homedale to go back to on occasion.
A few weeks ago I mentioned I’m a bit obsessive when it comes to laundry. It’s my sole domestic quality. Being a divorced bachelor and all, I occasionally wash all my pants at the same time, leaving me with, um, no pants to wear.
Today is one of those days.
I’ll spare you further imagery.
Image credit: Stuart Chalmers
An occasional lack of clean pants at the Command Center stems primarily from two circumstances. For one, like many men I almost never go clothes shopping. Since I was separated in late 2008 I can count the times I went on one hand. One of those times was a few months ago in Portland when I found myself without a belt.
How the hell did this happen? Your guess is as good as mine.
The second, and more disquieting, reason is my weight. For most of my adult life I wore a 38 waist. Accordingly all of my slacks and suit pants have a 38 waist. The problem is over the last year or so I’ve expanded to a solid 40. The 38s simply don’t fit anymore. That leaves me with four viable pairs of pants at present, all jeans.
Yeah, yeah. “Go to the gym.” Easy for you to say. Recently because of my bipolar and other factors, getting up by 5 pm has become something of an accomplishment. It’s not that I don’t want to (no, really). It’s just that I haven’t been able to.
Besides, without pants even simple tasks like getting the mail become … shall we say, problematic.
Superfluous Bloviations 