Got together with my buddy J on Saturday to play through Halo-1. It was, as always, great fun. I’m getting better at it, whether it’s developing muscle memory, or just the added experience. I’m more likely to use cover, and keep moving during close encounters, and less likely to just stand out in the open while lining up my shots. Whether in the real world or the virtual world, standing still in the open during a firefight has a negative impact on survival.

We didn’t finish the whole campaign, but we certainly got more than halfway. I renewed my love affair with the marine’s Scorpion battle tank, and refreshed my loathing of the Covanent’s Banshee.

I have been suffering from a cold, which had settled into my chest, usually the last stage before going away completely. My cough had been clearing up, and I was feeling much better by Saturday morning. Unfortunately, nearly twelve hours of sitting down with adrenaline coursing through my system produced a staggering setback. As we played, my throat got sorer and sorer, and my cough grew more hacking. By the time I crawled into bed at 2:00 am, I knew I was in for a turn for the worse.

Surely enough, Sunday was spent hoarsely croaking to my family, watching a lot of TV and napping. My throat was raw and every cough aggravated it. And my coughing continued to get worse. Sunday night I woke myself up coughing all night. I’m sure my poor wife got little sleep.
My son is ‘Star of the Week’ at his grade school. He prepared a poster listing all his likes and dislikes, with a picture of him on it. He gets to be at the front of the line all week, and Lord knows what other perks he’s entitled to. Even though this honor rotates from student to student, he’s so proud he could bust his buttons. He’s very cute.
I was picking up some breakfast at the grocery store this morning, when someone got in line behind me at the check-out. His hair was in disarray and he had a somewhat feverish and wild look in his eye.

“Where is your peanut butter?!” he asked the checker.

“Aisle 7.” was the reply.

Peanut-butter-guy scurried off to get peanut butter, and I looked at the groceries he was buying. A carton of eggnog, a single carton of yogurt, and some milk. And he was off to get peanut butter.

Which made me wonder, what on earth was so urgent that he had to ask someone where the peanut butter was, instead of just looking for it? And why did he have to get it at 7:30 in the morning? Was there some child involved, some child that refused to eat anything for lunch except PBJs? And the bus was coming? Was someone cooking something for an office potluck, and realized they didn’t have peanut butter? Was the peanut butter associated with any of the other groceries? And if so, how? What was the story here?

Alas, I will never know. There are a million stories in the naked Thriftway. This is just one of them.