Sleepless Tidbits

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai went well. Moms and I ate lunch at Loco Moco. Later, moms served Welcome® vanilla ice cream for dessert. The rest of the day? The urban nomad fulfilled his usual benign functions and followed his routine itinerary as planned.

Incidentally, I did not sleep well at all again last night. I have no idea why. Coffee is definitely not the culprit. And, there were no disturbing noise sources except for the endless traffic on the highway. At several points, I noted that my heart rate was about 120bpm. I was not experiencing any anxiety, but I was wide awake. Strange things.

Yet another useless economic statistic has come to my attention: $450,000 is the average net worth of a citizen of empire, according to the Fed. Did you get that? Compare the latter with the fact introduced in the "blog" of yesterday: the bottom 90 percent of empire only holds about 29 percent of all private net worth. The problem is the use of the word, "average." The proper term should be "arithmetic average," which is essentially a useless number. What we need to see is the median net worth. I can assure you that the figure is far lower than the $450,000 quoted.

Every day brings more literary treasures at the WikiLeaks site. So far, only 1,295 items out of 251,287 total have been released. So, what has happened since the "leaks" commenced? The Guardian UK provided an interesting summary in an article titled, "After 12 days of WikiLeaks cables, the world looks on US with new eyes." Interesting reading.

Expendable Fool

I actually slept close to eight hours last night. I'm not sure how that happened. Unfortunately, I did not heed my body's advice and indulged in my coffee habit this morning. High anxiety did not overcome me. Yet, I could not be more stupid than to ignore a clear warning. Perhaps I just don't care anymore.

Incidentally, I must report that I have seen an incredible number of new faces in the homeless circle. The downtown library is one of the main daytime way stations for the homeless. The homeless have also become quite brazen by establishing small tent communities along the King Street corridor between Honolulu Stadium Park and the Mo'ili'ili branch of the library.

I ran into Ann at the library. She said that there are no jobs on the North Shore, at least not for senior citizens. Her unemployment compensation is due to run out in February of next year. Lori appears to have about two years of financial resources. However, Lori's lifestyle does not seem to be very frugal, so the duration may be less. I don't know what either Lori or Ann will do about their predicaments. Although both of them are survivors, I tend to sense a kind of "eleventh hour" wishful thinking amongst them. In the past, I had the same belief in "eleventh hour" miracles, but I know better now. I was simply fortunate or "lucky." Sooner or later (probably sooner), "luck" will run out.

Well, I am continuing to waste a lot of time, as if I have all the time in the world. If I were to live to be 75 years of age, then I have 6,840 days remaining. That's not a whole lot of time, is it? Yet, I am not motivated to do much else except to waste each precious day following the insane urban nomad routine. At night, there's not much relief from stupidity. I compose the idiotic "blog," read moderate amounts of nonsense on the Net, and add more hurdy-gurdy videos to my massive collection. Inane and insane.

What else can I do? I, too, am running out of money rapidly. I am playing the "waiting game," but I may not be able to last. My resources depend on interest rates rising. I cannot speculate in equities. It's too risky an exposure. Interest rates, however, may not ever rise above zero percent in my lifetime. Only in the case of hyperinflation (i.e., wages and prices) will there be a need to raise interest rates and tighten the money supply. With real unemployment at 20 percent and rising, there will never be a wage inflation problem ever again.

In empire, the top one percent of the population comprises 34 percent of private net worth. The bottom 90 percent (i.e., peon class) only comprises 29 percent of private net worth. Take a close look at those figures. The top ten percent of the population, by inference, holds 71 percent of the empire's wealth. Unemployment, as I stated previously in the "blog," could approach 50 percent with no appreciable effect. The empire will function just fine without the "useless eaters." The bottom 50 percent probably only holds about ten percent of the empire's wealth, if even that. They are essentially expendable. And, I am one of them.

High Anxiety Redux

For the past few days, I have been trying to catch up on my sleep by attempting to lapse in and out of a coma while I am sitting in the peaceful inner courtyard of the library. What I didn't notice until this morning was that I never lapsed in and out of a coma at all. I was fully conscious, only with my eyes closed. I could also literally feel the pangs of anxiety churning in my gut.

Oddly, I was finally able to actually lapse in and out of a coma for about 30 minutes. I recognized the experience because I could hear the older babe (term used loosely) proselytizing some religious mumbo-jumbo to a hapless victim a few tables down from where I was sitting. Her words reverberated in my ears at three times the actual volume (i.e., sound pressure level). When I suddenly came to, I noticed that her voice was back to a normal volume.

At that point, I realized what has been at the root of my sleep deprivation problem for the past few weeks. I am suffering from high anxiety. I had also gotten used to the churning sensation in my gut, attributing the latter to excess acidity from drinking coffee. Well, I am certain that the coffee has exacerbated the symptoms, thereby increasing the anxious feeling. What is the cause of the anxiety? Most likely, everything that I have discussed in the "blog." Subconsciously, my mind must be reviewing that crap over and over again. I suspect that the key issue is my mortality.

Apparently, I was completely ignoring what my body was communicating to me. The anxiety made me both hypersensitive to noise and hypervigilant (almost to the point of clairvoyance) to noise events. What is probably happening is that I am rapidly converging on a life-threatening event. Sadly, I must consider a temporary (or permanent) coffee hiatus. Coffee is doing me no good at this time because it is artificially amplifying the anxiety.

One puzzling aspect of anxiety is how quickly we acclimate to it. After a couple of days, the symptoms are almost unnoticeable, even though there is a major decrease in attention span, a queasy churning in the gut, insomnia, and an almost-subconscious desire to flee. The everyday stressors of empire sublimate anxiety quite well.

Just another day in empire. Same ol' shit. No details are necessary. I'll leave it at that.

Late Post Script. I really didn't want to comment on the latest empire theatrics concerning the tax cut for the rich and paltry unemployment benefits for the poor. However, the empire's peon (read: cattle) class just doesn't seem to get it, that is, they just don't get the "good cop, bad cop" scenario which keeps playing over and over again. Don't even bother with crests and troughs of the endless vacillations in policy. Instead, filter out the "noise" and focus on the long-term moving average. That's right. Figure in the ludicrous financial and healthcare "reforms." The trend is downward. It's all going downhill fast for anyone who is not in the elite class. Barnyard economics. Sheesh!

Post No. 1,682

Another day, another dollar ... short. Oh brother. Nothing out of the ordinary transpired with the exception that I finally met up with Lori after 2.5 years. I had not seen her face-to-face since the month of August over two years ago. And, we live on the same island. Sheesh!

I met Lori at the Makai Market in Ala Moana Center at 3:30pm. We walked around and chatted. Since I knew that I would not arrive back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) until much later, I decided that finding a place for dinner would be a good idea. We ate at California Pizza Kitchen. The light meal was pretty good. Then, we walked around the mall and chatted until the last Route 23 bus arrived at 7:03pm. I arrived at Slob Manor just before 8pm.

I was able to catch up with most of the missing 2.5 years, at least on a basic level. Ann is, of course, staying with Lori. The situation for Ann doesn't look too good. Jobs are not plentiful on the North Shore. In addition, the status of Ann's unemployment compensation may be in jeopardy as with millions of other unemployed people in empire. Lori, herself, is concerned that she may not be able to return to wage slavery, if necessary. Lori, Ann, and I share the same problem: age discrimination.

Lori briefly summarized what happened with her divorce and the demise of the bike shop business. Since I am only hearing one side of the story, I will refrain from commenting. It's none of my business anyway. Fortunately, I did not sense that Lori was trying to prejudice my opinion, not that I had one to begin with. I also learned that Lori's daughter is married and living in Oregon. I am really starting to feel old.

On a troubled note, Julian Assange of WikiLeaks has been arrested in the UK and is being held in Wandsworth Prison, possibly awaiting extradition to Sweden and, finally, extradition to empire to face "terrorist" charges. The Swedish "rape" allegations were simply a "honey trap." From the [deleted] site:

The financial aristocracy and its political representatives feel an urgent need to impose a stranglehold on the flow of information. They know that the crisis of their economic system and their attempts to impose its full weight on the backs of the working class, both at home and abroad, are creating the conditions for an eruption of class struggles. Depriving such a movement of free information and political perspective is seen as vital by the ruling elite.

This is what makes the launching of an international campaign in defense of WikiLeaks a life-and-death question for working people in every country. Mass protests and movements of solidarity must be organized to demand the immediate release of Julian Assange and Pfc. Bradley Manning and an end to the campaign of intimidation and repression against WikiLeaks.

I must concur. There is very little indication now that Assange was simply a "tool" of "disinformation."

Sleep Disorder Revisited

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai went well. Moms and I ate lunch at Panda Express®. Later, moms served Welcome® vanilla ice cream for dessert. The rest of the day? The urban nomad fulfilled his usual benign functions and followed his routine itinerary as planned.

Well, another sleepless night left me groggy all day. I have, however, noted an an unusual aspect of my alleged sleep disorder. I seemingly wake up just a few minutes before any noise incident occurs. This morning, I woke up at 2am, just before the new dickhead in the attached studio returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) and began moving furniture and dropping heavy objects on the floor. As you may recall, the floor of the attached studio is just diagonally above my squalid room. Then, once I am awakened and accosted with noise, I cannot go back to sleep. For some reason, my mind becomes completely active again. I am seemingly locked into some kind of analytical process loop of which there is no forced interrupt option.

So, what exactly has been swirling around in the oversized cranium and keeping the ol' lavahead up all night? Pretty much every topic that is discussed in the "blog," I'd say. Perhaps, after my lengthy diatribe in the "blog" of yesterday, my mind was simply not able to lapse into a proper coma. By the way, there are also many issues that have not yet been discussed in the "blog." Yes, the non-existent readership has much to anticipate.

Cognitive Dissonance

"Assange is an anarchist whose stated goal is to provoke an over-reaction on the part of the state that will expose its authoritarian nature, turn it inward in a spasm of paranoia and ultimately prevent it from functioning." -- Joshua Holland (Alternet)

This morning at 6am, the Iraqi guy and his limerant object were having a breakfast argument in the second floor common area of Slob Manor (read: rental housing). After about 45 minutes of the tiresome tirade, there was total silence. I assumed that both of them had retired to limerant object's room to "reconcile" their differences. Unlike Alan, I don't refuse to believe that Joseph and his limerant object are "fuck buddies" at the very least.

Another Sunday has come to pass. Same ol' shit. No details necessary. The highlight of the day, though, was a brief stopover at Subway® in the Aina Haina Shopping Center for an early dinner.

I'm actually dreading returning to Slob Manor after my daily excursions. Since Iraqi secret agent man, Joseph, and his limerant femme fatale commandeered the entire premises, Slob Manor has been a living hell. Alan, of course, doesn't care. He's too enamored with Joseph's limerant object. And, he's still in denial that there is much more than a platonic friendship. Thus, Alan still waits around conveniently like a lost dog to have chance "good rapport" discussions with the Iraqi secret agent man's limerant object. Nothing short of pathetic, I'd say.

Yesterday, in the discussion about my sleep disorder, I neglected to mention noise as the biggest problem. Of course, I have mentioned the noise pollution problem numerous times in the "blog." I happened to peruse an interesting book titled, "The Unwanted Sound of Everything We Want: A Book About Noise," by Garret Keizer at the library the other day. Keizer reasoned:

To say that noise is a relatively weak issue because it is less momentous than world hunger or global climate change is to make an incomplete statement. Noise is a weak issue also because most of those it affects are perceived, and very often dismissed, as weak. The ones who dismiss them, in addition to being powerful, are often the ones making the noise.

I have to admit that I agree with him. In my case, I am perceived as a weakling by others. I enable their strength by playing the part of a weakling (i.e., humble monk), often capitulating to their whims. By empowering the fools, I make it possible for them to increase the tyranny of their self-perceived power.

In reality, the fools are even weaker than I am. Take Joseph, for example, the Iraqi secret agent man. He's a puny guy with little to his name. He cannot return to his native Iraq because he was a stooge for Ahmed Chalabi. In Iraq, he would be a walking corpse. Fortunately, the landlord of Slob Manor feels sorry for him. So, Joseph apparently has a place to live for life. Every now and then, the landlord lets him earn his keep by employing him for hard labor at the nursery.

An even more pathetic example is Joseph's limerant object. She's probably in her early thirties, having worked 16 years for an insurance company only to be laid off. Now, she works at a mortuary. There's little evidence that she has any education beyond high school. Her last boyfriend was Joseph's cousin. Currently, she's messing around with Joseph, a guy with absolutely no future. Erica, the Iraqi guy's limerant object, could have used her wily ways to hook up with a guy that has at least some kind of future. She's attractive enough to do so. Instead, she has put herself at the mercy of Joseph and moved into Slob Manor. She's waiting for Joseph to change his "bad" ways and become successful. What could Joseph become? He was a failure as a secret agent man. Nonetheless, the limerant object has "put all her eggs in one basket" with a big hole in the bottom. She's biologically coming to the end of the line for procreation, although I suspect that she had a recent abortion. Without any higher education, she's doomed to "dead-end" jobs. She wants Joseph really bad, but she cannot deal with the expected Arab-Muslim female roles (i.e., subservience). For the time being, Joseph is her "fuck buddy," but only her pathetic mangy dog actually gets to sleep with her.

Then, there's Alan. I've already mentioned his odd quirks. Aside from the latter, he's 58 years old. He just purchased a five-bedroom "McMansion" in economically depressed and racially polarized Arizona. He has a 30-year mortgage which will be paid off when he's 89 years old. He's renting out the rooms, supposedly at a profit. However, Alan is employed here. He's working "graveyard" shift in order to make more money, although the hours are taking a toll on him. Alan is not planning to retire until he's 65 years old. So, I assume that he's stuck at Slob Manor for another seven years. His squalid room is also his storage unit, so there's barely any living space. Fortunately, the Iraqi guy's limerant object will still be at Slob Manor seven years from now. Perhaps Alan will make a little more headway with her by then. Unfortunately, though, Joseph will also still be around.

Few people really realize what kind of prison they live in or have made for themselves. They live their lives in denial of their mortality. They also believe that they are much more powerful, much more affluent, much more intelligent, much more beautiful, with way too many more options than what is reality. Truth for them has been taken hostage by cognitive dissonance.

Make no mistake, though. I know of my own foray into the realm of derealization. I also know of my own foolishness, which has entrapped me time and time again. Yes, I am trapped once again, but I also have more subjective freedom than before. However, I am being squeezed by mental midgets who believe that they are far more superior, intellectually and you-name-it, to myself. Hence, they are attempting to show me the awesome power of their mental midgetry. I'd like to say that I am amused, but I am not the least bit.

Am I just a nosy guy? Is that why I know such about so many fools? People, most of them fools, love to talk about themselves and about others who are apparently important to them in one way or another. Oddly, they know nothing about the ol' lavahead or the inner workings of the oversized cranium. No one bothers to ask. Or, if they do ask (rarely), the questions are rhetorical. I have learned long ago that real friendships do not exist. No one is truly important enough to be anyone's friend. What we call "friendships" are actually dangerous and sick dependencies. That's the reason why "community" no longer exists.

I have chosen the residents of Slob Manor as typical pitiful examples of cognitive dissonance, only because they are so familiar to us. Yet, each one of those mental midgets is generic. I could interchange any of them for any of the faceless dickheads out in the general public. Of course, that should be of no surprise. "Civilization" is only possible in a monetized and "commodifed" environment. Such an environment mandates a prerequisite homogeneity, totally festered with stupidity. And, indeed, that's what we find.

As I have stated previously, Slob Manor is a microcosm of "society," that is, the lower strata of "society" in empire (i.e., about 75 percent of the population). On a grand scale, rampant stupidity of the masses has led to the rogue nature of empire and, ultimately, the increasing totalitarian regression that is now required to keep the "inner animal" in check. The situation is only going to worsen.

My own thoughts now revolve around survival. I keep wondering why I waste money on renting a substandard room in an almost unlivable environment. Am I stupid? My living conditions are rapidly approximating that of homelessness. Why not just be homeless already? Then, I could at least apply the former rent money to purchase a 9mm semi-automatic weapon and other survival gear.

On that note, I must pledge my full support for Julian Assange and WikiLeaks (hyperlink constantly changing). As Julian Assange postulated:

The more secretive or unjust an organization is, the more leaks induce fear and paranoia in its leadership and planning coterie. This must result in minimization of efficient internal communications mechanisms (an increase in cognitive “secrecy tax”) and consequent system-wide cognitive decline resulting in decreased ability to hold onto power as the environment demands adaption. Hence in a world where leaking is easy, secretive or unjust systems are nonlinearly hit relative to open, just systems. Since unjust systems, by their nature induce opponents, and in many places barely have the upper hand, mass leaking leaves them exquisitely vulnerable to those who seek to replace them with more open forms of governance.

The ignorance and arrogance of the masses has led to their powerlessness and impotency. They can now only feed their fragile egos by consuming each other. The moneychangers and powers-that-be have been left to their own devices. Until now ...

Sleep Disorder

"What we need is more WikiLeaks about the Federal Reserve. Can you imagine what it'd be like if we had every conversation in the last 10 years with our Federal Reserve people, the Federal Reserve chairman, with all the central bankers of the world and every agreement or quid-pro-quo they have? It would be massive. People would be so outraged." -- Ron Paul

Yesterday, moms insisted on walking down to Koko Marina for a dental appointment at 9:20am. I piddled around until 10:45am before driving my Nissan® Frontier truck down to Koko Marina. I was supposed to meet moms at 11am. After a few minutes of waiting downstairs in the lobby in order to avoid missing moms, I came to discover that moms had already left the dental office almost an hour prior. I walked outside to find moms walking back to the building. For some reason, moms decided to wait for me somewhere else. I have admit that I was rather irate because the scenario always repeats itself. Rather than wait in the most logical location, moms wanders off. What I need to do is accompany moms, then sit right there and wait. I can always bring my Acer® Aspire One netbook computer along to keep me company.

Another groggy day has come and gone. Yes, I am alluding to sleep deprivation. The problem seems to be getting worse, and it's not just due to the various inconsiderate asswipes at Slob Manor (read: rental housing). I may be suffering from a genuine sleeping disorder, which I believe has its root in stress. The stress is what seems to trigger chronic insomnia. What is the source of the stress? The entire "blog" has provided the details. Sheesh!

My finances tops the list of stressors. I no longer have any control over my financial destiny. I am at the mercy of fuckheads like Ben "Handjob" Bernanke of the Fed. Oh, there are many more fools, too numerous to name. And, I am just one of the many victims of myriad Ponzi schemes introduced by those schmucks. I can only watch as millions of my fellow human animals are abandoned by "civilization." They will have lost everything that kept them civil. Now, they are relegated to a bestial existence. I am not far behind them. When my limited resources run out, I will be groveling in the wild as well.

Well, I really didn't know what to make of the current WikiLeaks saga. For the most part, the latest document purge seemed legitimate. However, there's been a lot of "noise" about Israeli Mossad involvement and other "off-the-wall" accusations. Heck, there's a genuine secret agent man living right in Slob Manor!

Secret Agent Man

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai went well. Moms served a hodge-podge of food for lunch. And, what meal would be complete without Welcome® vanilla ice cream for dessert? And, the rest of the day? The urban nomad fulfilled his usual benign functions and followed his routine itinerary as planned.

When I arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I noticed that the Iraqi guy had parked his vehicle in the Indian guy's former spot. No doubt, he must have been worried that I would try to claim the space before his limerant object returned from wage slavery. Oh, what a chivalrous fool he is!

On a serious note, I suspect that someone has been rummaging around my squalid room while I am gone. I was never given a key to the lock, so the door is not secured. Only Alan and the Iraqi guy are home during the day. Now, who would be the likely suspect? For several weeks now, I've noticed tiny rocks on the tile floor. I leave my slippers (read: slippahs) just outside my door. No street shoes are allowed in my squalid room. Thus, I suspect that someone wearing footwear had been inside. This afternoon, I noticed the pile of mortgage papers, which I leave on the floor next to my squalid desk, was not the way I left it. There is also a small stack of crap on top of the pile, which is kept in a specific order. The stack of crap was not in the proper order. Now, why would anyone want to rummage through my personal files and useless possessions?

I've also observed Joseph, the Iraqi guy, skulking around outside at odd hours. Even Alan commented about how Joseph has a peculiar habit of popping out of nowhere. Often, I hear noises outside my window at night that sound as though someone is sneaking around in the bushes along the boundary of the Chinaman property next door. As I mentioned before, Joseph must not be here by choice. When in Iraq, he most likely betrayed his people. Was he a spy or a mole for empire? Was he a stooge for Ahmed Chalabi? That's probably why the limerant object is so enamored with Joseph. She imagines him to be an Iraqi James Bond. More like Austin Powers, I'd say. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Austin Powers, Chalabi Stooge?
Well, the Indian guy has officially moved out, or so says Alan. However, the Indian guy only took his clothes, golf clubs, and a cheap frying pan with him. He left a really nice bed and his aquarium, amongst other possessions. I'm sure that Joseph will find a way to pawn off the items to gain some spare cash, what, being a secret agent man and all.

Community

Another day of ... you guessed it ... same ol' shit. The highlight of the day was an early dinner at Subway® on Fort Street Mall. Yes, I was dangerously close to the Diploma Mill. And, there were quite a few Diploma Mill students enjoying an early dinner as well. By the way, I felt much better today after my one-day bout with the flu.

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I asked Alan if he knew whether the Indian guy moved out. He wasn't sure, but from all indications the Indian guy is gone. The Iraqi guy's limerant object wasted no time in procuring the Indian guy's parking spot. So, my Nissan® Frontier truck will remain parked in the dirt pile. As I have already predicted, the Iraqi guy and his limerant object will take over the entire house. Even if the landlord were to move someone into the Indian guy's former room, the Iraqi guy and his limerant object will probably make life a living hell for that person. Unless, of course, the prospective tenant is able to confine himself solely to his squalid room just like Alan and I. Of course, for Alan, the limerant object can do no wrong.

It's easy to see why I have become a hermit, a misanthrope. I don't truly hate my fellow humans, although they certainly work hard enough at becoming despicable. For example, the situation at Slob Manor involves a collective of people who must share a common roof and common resources. Each one of us should have recognized the rights of the other residents as part of a small community. Instead, we have seen the constant usurping and trampling of those rights and a most pathetic power struggle for dominion.

I read in interesting article titled, "A Circle of Gifts," by Charles Eisenstein, which appeared on the Reality Sandwich site. He opined:

What happened to community, and why don't we have it any more? There are many reasons – the layout of suburbia, the disappearance of public space, the automobile and the television, the high mobility of people and jobs – and, if you trace the "whys" a few levels down, they all implicate the money system.

As I have stated in the "blog" many times, we don't have any sense of community or commonwealth. We live as a collective of individuals, most of whom are on the borderline in keeping their "inner animal" in check. Eisenstein again:

That is one reason for the universally recognized superficiality of most social gatherings. How authentic can it be, when the unconscious knowledge, "I don't need you," lurks under the surface? When we get together to consume – food, drink, or entertainment – do we really draw on the gifts of anyone present? Anyone can consume. Intimacy comes from co-creation, not co-consumption, as anyone in a band can tell you, and it is different from liking or disliking someone. But in a monetized society, our creativity happens in specialized domains, for money.

Slob Manor is certainly not a community by any means. However, it is a very accurate scale model of what is out in the so-called "real world." A sad state of affairs, I might add.

Illin' Fool

I attempted to go to sleep at 10pm last night. Three hours later, I was still wide awake. Within a few minutes, though, things took a turn for the worse. My complete lower torso was engulfed in pain. At first, I thought that I had suffered a bout of food poisoning. However, the pain did not originate in my gut. Rather, my entire lower back and abdominal muscles appeared to be the culprit. Within an hour, I began perspiring profusely. Obviously, I had contracted a mild case of the flu. I remained in a supine position until this morning, although I did not sleep at all. I was almost not able to get out of bed because my lower back was stiff and in deep pain.

Standing, sitting, and walking were all painful activities. Nonetheless, I followed the usual urban nomad routine. I attempted to procure a bottle of cold and flu elixir from Longs® once I arrived at Ala Moana Center. At the checkout counter, I was asked for identification. "I am 56 years old," I said. "I don't need any ID." The clerk was persistent. So, I walked off in a huff. I was able to purchase Nyquil® cold and flu elixir along with a cup of coffee at Foodland, thank goodness. Immediately, I had to drop back a dosage of the elixir.

I had not planned to spend time at the library. However, when I arrived in town, I felt really fatigued. I ended up lapsing in and out of a coma in the inner courtyard of the library for over two hours. Tired as I was, I still managed to restore my extreme monk haircut at the Institute of Hair Design, run through an abbreviated version of my usual workout at the gym, and even perform the dreaded laundry chores when I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing).