First half of the day off Tuesday. (Second half of the day off Wednesday. A bit odd, but I've got one more off day to use, and I decided to split it thusly. Team's back on Friday, so I'll have things to do on Thursday. So there that is.)

Being an off day, and being in-season, there were obviously things that needed getting done.

On the list:
- Sign up for auto insurance.
- Change oil.
- Patch front right tire.
- Get tires rotated.
- Get remeasured for suit, in anticipation of brother's wedding.

The plan had been to line up my destinations for these accomplishments (theoretically, three) on Monday night but, alas, I fell asleep watching the Tigers-Twins Monday at 9:30 and didn't wake up until 5. At 5, then, I lined up the locations.

Or, anyway, I located insurance guy (appointment: 10 a.m.) on the map, and located downtown men's clothier/tailor (in the yellow pages). I also tried on the suit, which was purchased 30 pounds ago, and felt slightly like a nine-year-old trying on his dad's suit. Prognosis: Not rosy.

Auto-related locations would have to wait for the morning.

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Up and out for a run, and ready for the insurance guy. But, first, a call to the auto place down the street. "Oil change?" "We can do that." "Tire rotation?" "We can do that." "Patch the tire?" "Can't do that." "Who can do that?" "A tire place." So I set an oil change appointment, 11:30. He wouldn't have time to rotate today. Lift's occupied all day.

So I call the tire place. "Rotation? Patch?" "We can do that. Won't be too long." "When can I stop in?" "Anytime. No problem."

So, from three to four locations. Goal is to hit the insurance guy, hit the tailor, make the 11:30 oil change, eat some lunch, get to the tire place by 1, get to work's half-day (10-6 road game workday) by two.

Insurance. No problem.

Tailor. Problem. The thing's swimming on me, as I knew from the wee hours. So she starts safety-pinning things on the pants, then moves to the jacket, then stops. "You've got flaps on the jacket. If we angle the jacket properly, the flaps will basically be next to each other. They'll be way too close together. And that just won't look right." The other chimes in: "And by the time you pay for this - $22 for the waist, $22 for the thighs, $10 to shorten the pants, $22 for the shoulders - you basically are paying for a new suit. Go check the clearance rack."

Crap. No time for the clearance rack, but it's okay because the parents brought up a relatively well-fitting suit last month. Hand-me-downs, yes!

Oil change without incident, and cheap.

A lunch of shredded wheat, and quite good. Plus a half-pitcher of water.

Tire place: Not good.

I arrive, request my needed services. "How long?" "45 minutes or an hour." So I settle into a chair, pop on the iPod, and start reading. (Still It's All Right Now, by Charles Chadwick; it's incredibly long, but also incredibly funny and really quite heartbreaking/heartwarming. I think you'd like it, but only if you have the patience for nearly 700 pithy but oddly-punctuated pages. Fascinating, truly.)

So, 25 minutes later, a tire guy comes to the waiting room. "Yellow car?" "Yup." "Tire's shot. You probably need a new one. And if you need one, you should probably get at least two." "Crap." [Walk to the desk with him.] "And the alignment's off. Way off." "So what am I looking at?" "Probably 300 bucks or so."

"Sigh. Sure. Go for it. Crap." But in the friendliest, least frustrated way I could muster.

"So how long am I looking at?" "Not too long."

So, back to the headphones and the book and the chair.

25 minutes later, a tire guy to the waiting room. "So, your brakes are just about shot. I wrote up an estimate. You want to take care of them now?" "What's the estimate?" "About 300 dollars." "Let's hold off. By the way, how long am I looking at?" "Oh, about 45 minutes or an hour." [Stunned.]

And so it was. 300 bucks dropped. 300 more on the way. (Don't drive in front of me, friends.) Maybe I shouldn't get too frustrated but, God, it was frustrating.

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So I got to the office. Immediately, a fringe-hilarious conversation with a coworker. An intern joined in. Boss' wife joined in as well. I was on fire.

I went back to my office for a moment, and I kinda-sorta had "The shakes." That is, I was twitching quite a bit. Drumming on the desk. Knocking my water cup back and forth. You've seen me that way before. It's a problem.

So, out of my office, and back to the coworker's. I needed to explain myself, not because anybody asked or noticed, but because I thought it would be entertaining: "Here's my problem: Whenever I get offered a free cup of coffee, I take it. And then I get another one. And another one." To wit: Two cups of coffee at my 20-minute oil change, three more at the two-hour tire-change.

Downside: The shakes. Upside: When boss' wife talked about which shirt she wanted to get from the team store, I threw on my Rico voice: "Oooooh, look at me! I'm sooooo important! I can get annnnnnny shirt I want! I'm so special!" She laughed, I laughed, and I was reminded of Rico. Yes.

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Did some grocery shopping tonight. Late night. 10:30ish. For the third time in three weeks, my late night shopping found the store without bananas. Without bananas? Without bananas. Instead of bananas, then, I purchased blueberries. Not generally "substitutes in consumption," but when I'm simply seeking "fruit to eat on my shredded wheat," it works. Blueberries are far more expensive, however.

Went out for dinner directly after work with three coworkers. I've got at least one serving of Rud-jitas still waiting to be consumed, and three meals' worth of taco soup. (Note: Garbanzo beans are a good substitute if your local grocer does not carry hominy.) But they might just get thrown out. That'd be a shame, though, but I just don't think I'll want them at any point the rest of the week.

Dinner wasn't particularly good, but the company was. Also, I got pretty good cellphone pictures of them.

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Goal for tomorrow's off-afternoon: Beach. Book. Nothing more. Well, actually, I'll probably shave the beard. Not full (read: presentable) enough to justify the itchiness. However, it shows enough upside that I'll definitely [possibly] pursue it in the winter. Or early fall.

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Update on the WIDiRVoFOW:

Another cliche that he'll assign to me: "We always say, home runs can be rally killers." This is something I never believe in. Home runs are, without fail, good. Stupid.

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This is probably the dryest, most boring post I've had since the move to the Ring Fingernail brought on the Golden Era of RedHotHalos. Could this be my Bread and Circuses? I hope not.