honk, honk, honk, honk

Very little annoys me more than when poor design negatively impacts me. When I stand in a long line at a store because only one or two people are trained to run the register that is poor process design. When I hit five straight red lights that is poor transportation system design. When I set off my car alarm and cannot figure out how to turn it off that is poor product design.

As a few of you are aware, I experienced the last of these design problems at the drive-in on Friday. After the movie was over (thank goodness) I was carrying a few things to the trunk. It was dark and so I guessed on which button on the car key ring opened the trunk. I guessed poorly.

At that moment, I heard that wonderful sound as everyone I could see (and I am sure many more I couldn't) turned to stare at me.

"HONK, HONK, HONK, HONK, HONK..."

My heart sank as I remembered that I had not seen any specific button on the key ring that was obviously designed to turn off the alarm. After frantically hitting every button what seemed like a hundred times, the alarm finally turned off. To this day I don't know what I pushed to turn it off.

What annoys me is that I don't know how to figure out which button it is. I generally learn this sort of thing by trial and error, but I am not willing to set off the alarm to try to figure it out for fear that I won't figure it out.

Truth be told, I don't even care to have an alarm on my car. No one ever assumes that when a car alarm goes off that a car is actually being stolen, so I don't feel that what security is provided is even worth the stress of false alarms.

If I must have an alarm, it would be a lot easier if there was a button on the key ring that had a picture of a horn crossed out. That would be good design.

a case of the mondays

I have never really been a fan of Sunday nights. A large reason for that is that Monday morning is around the corner. I generally have a difficult time going to sleep on Sunday night due to my thoughts of what I will need to do in the upcoming week, then on Monday morning it can be difficult to get up and face the things I have to do in the upcoming week. I am apparently not really a fan of Monday mornings, either.

I just had a conversation with a coworker where we both confirmed we agree on this matter and that our feelings probably have little to do with how we like our jobs. Work can never compare to even an abnormally lousy weekend. However, a more stressful job is harder to face at the beginning of the week.

In a funny twist this morning Mrs Dust got to face Monday morning an hour early today. Her alarm clock got set an hour fast somehow (we aren't sure how at this point), and her alarm went off a little after 6 instead of 7. She started to wake me up at what she thought was the normal time for me then realized what time it really was. When we talked about it this morning she didn't sound too upset about it, which I find odd. I would have been very upset to lose an hour's sleep on a Monday morning. So long as the hour is at 6AM and not 12AM I would be upset, that is.

reach out and link to someone

When I started my blog it was essentially to keep up with Forrest, Dash, and Dar who had created blogs of their own already (thus the name). None of the girls had started theirs yet.

Once Golden started the girls off with her blog the list of people with blogs continually grew, as did a new problem. Do I link to just the guys? Are we going to keep the worlds separate?

After three months, I feel pretty comfortable in assuming that instead of having a smaller guys' world and girls' world that this is one larger combined world. This has been more or less confirmed by the fact that Dash has included everyone on his links. As such, I don't see any reason not to link to the sites where I comment regularly. I have updated Golden's links as well.

At the very least this should make it easier for me to keep my site open and just click down the list of blogs to be sure I am up to date on the posts. At the very least.

clothesed for business

Among the myriad of conversations that came up in my office yesterday about religion, politics, and the bombs in London, a more benign topic was raised later in the day. There was something of a debate among several of the guys I work with as to whether it is better to buy clothes yourself or let your wife do it.

Most wives apparently prefer to control that aspect of the household (though not all, I have learned). The question was for those of us guys whose wives prefer to do the clothes shopping. Should we want them to?

The pros mentioned were:

• Most guys view this as a chore and most wives don't
• When the wife is away (at the mall) the man will play (Xbox)
• Wives typically consider the husband's taste before picking a set of clothes (notice I didn't call it an outfit)

The cons mentioned were:

• She might pick something too formal
• She might pick something too casual
• I have no control over what she picks out

I am solidly in the let-my-wife-buy-my-clothes-when-possible camp. My greatest concern with clothes is comfort and Mrs Dust understands that. I think she fills the role nicely.

We have discussed this arrangement some at home, and she usually indicates that she likes it. I think sometimes that I too happily drop the responsibility for clothes on her, though. Maybe I can make it up by picking out clothes for her. I think a cadmium yellow top looks great with a electric blue capris and dead grass brown shoes. Don't you?

mr fixit

When we lived in an apartment, things were actually kind of good. We had our share of problems, from the A/C kicking out in the heat of July to a toilet that occasionally required some encouragement to flush. The great thing was, though, that no matter how bad the issue it wasn't my responsibility.

Now we are in a house. Granted, I am thankful for the equity and tax deductions that a house affords, but I am not a Mr Fixit. Now every sound I hear in the house makes me nervous and every time something doesn't work quite right I know that I will somehow be responsible for it. If I can't figure out a way to resolve the issue, I'll have to hire, beg, or bribe someone else to do it.

What is really annoying is that very little of the work is complicated, I am just concerned that I will do more damage than good. A few examples.

• Our gutters do not currently abut against the house, thus we still get some water in our basement during storms and I get soaked if I walk out the front door after a rain. This should not be too complicated, but I can't figure out what tool I can use to work the gutter under the drip-edge again. Plus, all the neighbors can see me if I screw that one up.
• Our front door no longer closes properly and really should be replaced. Easy job, but if I get stuck in the middle of it and figure out that I cannot complete the task Mrs Dust probably won't be happy that she no longer has a front door.
• Our fridge has a water and ice dispenser but piping needs to be run to hook it up. With plumbing I am convinced a small mistake will mean that we are showering at the church and will experience a four digit repair expense.

If I grew up a few decades ago I might consider this challenging to my manhood. As it is, I guess I am just a pretty face. I hope Mrs Dust wasn't expecting to marry a handyman.

masquerade

I hate putting on a show to make myself appear or sound different than I really am. I hate making people think I believe something that I don't. I hate having to do anything that is less than honest.

As a result of what I hate, I have butted heads with my parents some in the past. Even though I agree on a lot with them, they are a little more traditional than I am and I haven't hidden many of the conflicting positions I have from them. I am appreciative that they always respect what I have to say, but there have been times when I still kept some feelings quiet.

When I was growing up, there were a TV shows that were off limits. One of these TV shows was The Simpsons, which I believe was condemned early because Bart had a bad attitude. I have a problem now. Since leaving home I have determined that The Simpsons ranks as one of the greatest shows ever created in its satirical portrayal of just about everything including Christianity.

This weekend, I got a chance to speak with my parents about a lot of things. We talked about family and friends and we also discussed things like formality in church and grace. A few hours before we left, though, the subject of comedic TV shows came up with my Mom. I conceded my enjoyment of The Simpsons, and she pointed out that she had heard positive things lately about how the show portrays Christianity. I am just happy that I don't have to keep up a facade.

cruciverbalist

I am a cruciverbalist. Any time I go on a trip of any length I bring along a book of crossword puzzles that Mrs Dust bought for me a couple of Christmas's ago and work through them when I have (five letters, a fifth tire) time. As I am going on a short trip to see (six letters, a class) this weekend, so will my crossword puzzle book.

Thing is, I am not a crossword puzzle purist. If I can't (six letters, "______ eight") out a section of the puzzle, I am more than willing to look up the answer to a clue in the answer to move things along. This is because I don't think it is relaxing fun to stare at a page for twenty minutes to try to determine the spelling for some (six letters, to cut green beans into strips before cooking) town. As a result, I don't like doing the newspaper crosswords that come with the text, "Answers Next Week," or something to that effect. Mrs Dust thinks I am cheating, but I disagree.

If nothing else, doing crosswords has added to my (ten letters, Tarzan had a small one) several four and five letter words containing a lot of (six letters, they can be bought from Sajak). Now I can construct meaningful sentences such as, "I will elide your idea as I puree the oleo on the dais."

Oh yeah, and I had every intention of posting this even before Jadee posted the cruciverbalist description on her site.