ON PRIDE
So I spent a busy day at work researching ninjas. I had absolutely nothing to do as usual (I get paid a ridiculous amount of money to do nothing), so I was looking into places to travel in Japan. I found Iga Ueno, home to the incredibly famous Iga ninja clan. I would estimate that I spent somewhere around 4 hours reading about different medicines and moves and whatnot that they developed. As happens when I read things like this, I started thinking, "That doesn't look too hard. I bet I could do some of those easier moves, no problem."

Whoever said pride cometh before the fall certainly knew what they were talking about (it's a Biblical quote, so obviously...). I finished my ninja research, then went off to plan a St. Patrick's Day bulletin board. I walked along the sidewalk to my board, then started holding up sheets of poster board to estimate how much green I'd need. Now, the fun thing about this sidewalk is that there is a slight slope. It's really easy to miss unless you're looking at it. So as I lay on my back 7.2 seconds later, trying to replay the last 7 seconds of my life going from upright to sprawled out, I realized that my ninja stealth may need some fine tuning before it is ready to be put to the test.

ON GIVING UNTO OTHERS
I have some friends who will be visiting over Japan in March and April. In honor of them, I've decided to really scrub my apartment. This will be a harder task than it sounds, by reason of my gentle nature. Some of the mold in my apartment has become like family to me. I know it well. It's been there so long, it's almost gained sentience (not to mention hair longer than mine). So my pain in cleaning will be two fold. I will have to destroy my beloved friends, and I will have to scrub REALLY hard to destroy said friends. To make my life easier, I ordered American cleaning supplies from the Costco in Japan. I have nothing against Japanese cleaning supplies. It just seems to me that if nothing is sudsing or foaming when you're using soap, something's got to be wrong.

Tonight I was eagerly awaiting the delivery of my cleaning supplies (and the Root Beer I had ordered [hey, heavy cleaning makes a person thirsty. I NEEDED the Root Beer for its refreshing qualities.]). At 7, I heard someone pull up outside, so I rushed to the door. The delivery man handed me receipts to sign as he went down to the truck to get my boxes. Now, when I ordered these cleaning supplies, I assumed they'd just come in normal sized bottles like we use in America. Hahaha, oh, my naivete. This is Costco. Nothing comes small. I was thinking I'd get boxes the size my parents normally send; boxes which could comfortably fit Gimli and possibly his battle axe. Instead, I looked down the stairs in horror to watch this poor man struggling with 2 boxes that could have housed Legolas, Aragorn, the hobbits, and possible quite a number of orks as well. And their weapons. And STILL had room for Treebeard if they all scrunched up. The Delivery Man (he earned the capital letters after carrying these things up the stairs) set the boxes on the top step to my apartment, then lifted the top one to put it in my apartment. I noticed the bottom box was teetering on the edge of the stairs, so I tried to pull it up a little. The box didn't move. I tugged harder, putting my back (as well as my newly acquired ninja skills) into it, miraculously managing to move the box 3 inches. Woohoo!! I looked at the little Japanese man who had just carried TWO of these behemoths up the stairs at the same time. It's at times like these that I just don't understand why Japan didn't win the war.

Mr. Delivery Man put both boxes in my entry way, took his receipts, and went back to his van, probably to cry over the pain of his newly pulled groin muscle. Sparing about 2 seconds in a moment of silence for his children who will now never be able to exist, I started opening my boxes. Holy crud. I've seen big bottles of cleaning fluids, but these put them all to shame. I wasn't aware that Mr. Clean came in a bottle which passes big and super size and goes straight to deity size. It's mammoth. Now I see why these boxes were so heavy. I bought about 5 gianormous bottles of cleaning liquids and a 24 pack of rootbeer and 1000 sheets of construction paper. And 2 pillows. I don't really factor the pillows in with the other things, though. They seem fundamentally different somehow. I opened the second box and saw the pillows on top and thought, "ha, I can move this one, it's just light stuff." I missed the construction paper and years-supply of Tide on the bottom, though. Now my back hurts. Sigh. And it's sad that I'm so excited, because all that awaits me now is cleaning. Woohoo.

But I'm still excited nonetheless. So I'll sit here tonight, happily belching my rootbeer and having happy dreams of Moldy Death in the morning. Maybe I'll send up a prayer or two for Mr. Delivery Man, praying that he has already had all the children he wanted or that scientists develop wonderful new technology to aid him in the next 10 years. Sleep well, Delivery Man, wherever you are. And use ice. Lots of ice.