RAM and a Suitcase Standoff

Day one of my two-week vacation dawned way earlier than it needed to; the white cube next to my bed glared 3:20 when I rolled over. I blinked and it was 4:45. Another blink and 5:30 proposed a morning run, which I shot down immediately. Instead, my mind began digging through the innumerable tasks I need to accomplish before the ‘rents descend, so I sighed and dragged my butt out of bed. Of the 12 tasks on my To Do list, I committed to completing two major ones by nightfall. I promised myself I would write a To Do list (until that point it’d just been in my head, and let me tell you what a reliable medium that is not), and unpack the suitcase that’s been sitting by my bed since my trip to Georgia six weeks ago (dictionary : ‘procrastinator’ : picture : me). It may not seem like much of a goal, but I am notorious (inside these walls, at least) for letting prime vacation days slip by as I laze around the house getting nothing done. Two tasks out of twelve is a manageable but marked improvement.

By 10 I had made the list, eaten breakfast, had coffee, and fleshed out my grocery list. I also discovered to my delight that the RAM I ordered from Dell had finally shipped and was to be delivered today. Making a mental note to listen for the door, I pried myself away from my laptop to get some work done. I was still avoiding eye contact with the suitcase, but charged into the guest room closet and began hauling out half-full boxes of crap to sort and consolidate. I emptied four cartons of books, crammed a footlocker, three plastic tubs and an old shelf unit into the balcony storage niche, neatly stacked the original packaging for every single gadget, gizmo and saltshaker I’ve ever bought onto the uppermost shelves, and emerged with 75% more real estate in the closet than I’d had when I started. I’ll need all I can get when my parents arrive with the rest of my household goods.

As I stopped for a mid-morning chocolate cheesecake break (it’s good to be the boss of me), I realized for the eleventy-hundredth time that I’m never more productive than when I’m avoiding something I don’t want to do, like unpacking a suitcase and putting it away. Brushing away the thought, I checked DHL’s website and read that my package was out with the courier for delivery. Good. He’s usually here by noon, which meant my RAM would quadruple by no later than 2, in plenty of time to still call the computer guy at work in case I screwed up the installation. Licking the last bit of chocolatey-cheesy sweetness from my fork, I put the dishes in the sink and headed back to the spare room where I unwrapped the bedding I bought from Ikea last weekend. I hauled the duvet cover, shams, two curtains and a drapey window-treatment thingy out to the living room and set up the ironing board. I plugged my iPod into its dock, booted up the iron and arranged the giant swaths of fabric over the couch where they wouldn’t re-wrinkle. For a blissful hour and a half I chased and subdued dozens of evil creases with hot steam and elbow grease, while my iPod belched a psychotic mix of its contents out of my sissy little surround-sound system. The Supremes took a Photograph of a Bad Moon Rising over David Lanz’s serene Paradise while The Little Drummer Boy’s Ex-Girlfriend Nikita gave her Testimony about Breaking Benjamin in My Vietnam. Mitch Hedburg’s comedy and blobs of white noise kept interrupting my hard rock new age Christmas Motown party, but I hummed along as I meditated on the strangely zen effect of ironing a clean white sheet.

By three o’clock, the curtains were hung (I snickered as I crossed “iron curtains” off my list – I’m such a geek), the duvet fluffed and folded, the magazines sorted, mail shredded, scanner dusted, printer hooked up, guest room rearranged, and the door check eight times for noises that were not the delivery guy. Still I avoided thinking about the suitcase, even though I could see it every time I looked down the hallway, sitting right there in the middle of the bedroom where I’ve been tripping over it for far longer than any other human would tolerate. Desperate for a distraction, I re-rearranged the magazines on the coffee table, then sat down to peruse Williams-Sonoma while savoring a chocolate yogurt (a moment’s mental calculations revealed PMS theory accurate) and a lengthening patch of afternoon sunshine. Eventually I moved from the couch to the sunny spot on the floor to warm my feet and found myself wishing I could be a cat so I could have nothing more pressing to do than nap in the sun and eat. Anxious now for my delivery, I alternated watching the window and the clock until the backs of my eyelids interrupted and I started to nod off.

Around four I finally admitted defeat and went into the bedroom to unpack the suitcase, stash it in the balcony closet, and put the laundry away. Forty-five minutes later I regarded the clean floor with satisfaction, and crossed ‘Empty & put away suitcases’ off my list. My feeling of accomplishment lasted for about thirty seconds until I realized it was ten minutes to five and still no delivery guy. I went to check the website where I was confounded by a notation that delivery had been attempted without success. Say what? I checked the little clip outside my door – no delivery slip. Those lazy, lying bastards! I called the dispatch office who verified that yes, the driver claimed to have attempted delivery and asked if I’d hold so they could text him. While I waited I wondered if the driver had a hot date to get to and decided to shortcut the system and call it a day. I started to feel sorry that I might get him in trouble, until I remembered how much I paid Dell for Next Day delivery. The dispatcher came back on the line to tell me I’d have my delivery in fifteen minutes. I hung up and watched out the window, half expecting to see a disgruntled teenager in a bright yellow uniform stomping on my delicate memory chips for revenge. Fifteen minutes later, I signed for the package. Fifteen minutes after that, my iStat memory widget informed me I was now using 24% of 2GB of RAM instead of 98% of 512MB. The last installment of my three-part Christmas present to myself was finally in place, and with that, I called it a day.

Except now I wish I’d written ‘Install RAM’ on my To Do list so I could cross it off, too. Would that be cheating?

Because I post here, I don’t really have anything to post here. I might try someday anyway. . I don’t accept notes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t comment.