A Dozen More
Saturday. Yesterday I managed a massive laundry operation, five loads are now folded in the dresser and hanging in the closet. The bed sheets are clean and pulled tight. The blanket and comforter are centered and tucked in. I am sitting here thinking of heading out for breakfast after bathing in a well scrubbed tub. Taking a couple of days off to prepare yourself to start a weekend can work wonders. Here it is, early morning, and we've already worked wonders. Makes my head spin. More so than normal.
And you drank another bottle of sake last night?
No, we're serious about not doing that for a while. Serious around here doesn't last very long, but we play at redemption and regeneration now and again so as to not lose the concept. I want to ease into this, maybe take a picture out on the street today, walk half the lake (how do you walk half a lake?), make a cat food run. Just the serious stuff. Nothing too light weight or frothy.
Later. An half hour before noon, breakfast eaten, a bus ride downtown for a walk and a brief visit to the office, the purchase of two large bottles of Diet Coke and a bag of roasted in the shell peanuts. A slight hesitation before choosing the peanuts. Was it the peanuts that last time, hitting the stomach like a stone? Nah. What the hell. Lightening doesn't strike twice, here in Oakland.
Another nap. Not a nap, really, just an hour lying down, Ms. Emmy stretched out on top of my legs, I thinking I have all the ambition and energy of a sloth, who knows what Ms. Emmy is thinking, paws and head on my knees? Earlier I'd opened my apartment door and discovered a box my neighbor had accepted for me from Fed Ex sitting just outside: two frame kits and a picture hanging kit consisting of picture wire, a bag of clever little metal thingies and a crimper. I've been waiting for these for some time. The unhung framed photographs that line the baseboard of my bedroom have been waiting for these for a long time. Damn. No more excuses.
Later. Seven framed prints, each an equal distance apart, each the same distance above the floor. No wonder I've been putting this off. Adjust, adjust, adjust. Still, seven framed photographs in a line across one wall of my bedroom. Now the wall beside it. Just a dozen more.