|
|
Paint this day in soul-chilling, saturated shades of charcoal grey. Twilight, from start to finish. Virginia... ephemeral land of extremes. Two months ago it was Death Valley. Today was northern England... without the Fullers on tap and and EPL match (Arsenal 3-Spurs-nil!). The dampness is making my body porous... gravity settling my center of gravity squarely in my ass. Immovable. Early on, some initiative was acted upon. Gathering the last bits to install some carpet in the bedroom, tomorrow. Cold feet in the morning is like insult to injury. Afterwards, with intent to find some raw fish for dinner at the Cathedral of Cheap Plastic Crap, I acted upon a whim while on the way. This house has been sans pet for too long, now. The bereavement has to stop. So, I decided to force Miss Jane's hand--she, telling everyone that she wants another cat--and deposited her, bodily, at the Siamese rescue to put in an application. Professionally run, and overrun with two-tone squawk boxes. If not for the review process, I was ready to grab one under each arm and bolt for the door, myself. If so, of course, I'd be wearing earplugs now. How they do vocalize. Skinny-assed, snaky-tailed, wedgy-snooted cross-eyed head bonkers with Chinese operatic skills. That twang the spine. I made good on the trip to Retail Hell. To my downfall. Pre-Thanksgiving food shopping awash in blinding fluorescent, too-narrow aisles, and the evil twins of all supposedly polite southerners. Dante's Family Circle. That's about right. The evil forces that be, sapping all joy and motivation from my very being. Forcing me to grab another rented Sopranos marathon on the way home, and while the evening in twisted New Jersey. What ever became of Saturday night? |
|
|
