I am somewhere between 1 minute and 6.8 x 10^15 minutes old; you’ll forgive me if I don’t answer with greater precision. My age is irrelevant. It’s inaccurate at best and breaks down laughably as you get technical about it. It’s a measure of how long I have been an individual entity, nothing more.
I knew there had to be a way to do this. I even – sort of – remembered doing it when I was around Daniel’s age. That was the problem; I hadn’t done it in the thirty years since. I couldn’t even think of what the concept was called to look it up. In the end, it took two hours, three adults plus a lucky find online to figure out the answer.
I have run into that issue, living in towns Microsoft Word didn’t consider real. If I accepted spell check, I currently reside in Bleeder, Illinois. I’m not sure if that’s better or worse than my previous address in Hangover Park.
We looked over the directions and Daniel got to work… eventually (this was Winter Vacation after all). He finally came up with about a dozen articles, a few ads and even a letter to the editor saying the colonists should protest the tea tax by drinking more alcohol (signed “a tavern owner”).
It wasn’t like he was cutting in line. I was still a few steps away from the register. Still, there is a certain protocol that should be followed when you are in the lead position in line. The guy had gas, but decided to read through the newspapers in the wire rack next to the counter.
Since everything was coming out of the fridge anyway, I thought I would spend some time deciding what would go back in. I chose an arbitrary cut-off of January, 2009. Anything that had expired since President Obama took office would have to go.
General Motors has come up with something they hope will add to the visceral thrill of owning a sports car (other than dropping the $75,000 MSRP). Starting with the 2011 Corvette, potential owners can help build the car themselves.
In case you’ve been living on another planet (or perhaps one of its moons), Avatar is a big budget blockbuster chock full of spectacle that marketing folks at 20th Century Fox have been telling us will change the way we see movies forever more. Normally, that kind of hyperbole is – well, hyperbole. However, in this case I have to agree.
“How does it feel to be ten?” I asked.
“I’m not ten yet,” he told me. “I was born at night, so I’m still nine until tonight.”
I ended up inflating the balloon to Daniel’s specifications. It ended up a little bit larger than I would have made it myself, but I thought it was manageable. I was wrestling with the end and trying to knot it up when I noticed Daniel was standing with his eyes closed and his hands across his ears.
“But it was Saturday when we went to Chicago,” said Daniel, yawning. I nodded. “And now it’s Sunday. It’s tomorrow.”
“Saturday and Sunday are the names of actual days,” I explained. “Today and tomorrow are descriptions.”
The price of refills was going up from 59 cents to 79 cents. That didn’t sound like much on a Pepsi by Pepsi basis, but it was an increase of almost 34 percent.
