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A twenty-four hour version of doing wind sprints... that's what the past two rounds of the clock has been like. To the point that my typing skills, as they are, are sucking majorly. Big case of the squints, too. My eyes, they are burning. If you don't live in the city, you've got to get your ass in gear before noon, when any place of convenience closes for the weekend. Past that, it's at least a fifty-mile round trip to wherever to get what you need. Taking care of little errands, watching the skies, racing back to the house to... ta-da... mow grass. The excitement continues. Not to be. As soon as I opened the car door, the first rumbles were echoing over the hill. One of the most dramatic sights I crave (not for the violence) is when the sun breaks surreally bright just before a storm. By contrast, the horizon is as black as volcano night. You know it's going to be a bumpy ride, but the Wow Factor goes over the limit. Twice it happened, today. To where i gave up the idea of community landscape decency, and just did little things. Bailing out ma mere from her recent onslaught of Things That Break, particularly. Surrounded by a swarm of Japanese wasps when i jumpstarted her lawn tractor... cheeky bastards. Never stinging, but darting uncomfortably close. Of course, you know this means war. Her computer attacked by the WormMaster... who i hope takes one up the ass for this. And a curse for Gates, too. Then to fixing my glasses, devising a way to refashion the broken backup lens on the Swede, helping Miss Jane load up her car for her departure, tomorrow, for the beach... ...where I'll be, come Wednesday. With Biggles as co-pilot, on what will probably be his last trip before he leaves for Ol' Blighty. With this and the Sex Pistols show, we'll probably get sick of each other by then. And, until then it's just me, the cat, the car, one day of work, and who knows. I've left myself one day to to... something else. Maybe DC. Something inspirational to begin the festivities. I've been blowing off chances to go to festivals, to dinner, to parties... a trend that has grown tiresome. The change begins in about eight hours. |
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