Ok, I’ve recovered.
Somewhat.
In case you missed it, this page looked a little wacky for about four hours. It was all black and white and grayscale. Now it’s feeling much better.
I’m still in mourning however. It’s just quiet mourning. Also, Craig made me feel a little better with one of his comments. So, um, I guess I’ll get by. I will survive. Like a bad 70’s sofa pattern.
No, don’t look too closely at the simile. Just move along and no one will get hurt.
Oh, that reminds me. This morning I actually had to deal with traffic. I know. I am as shocked as all of you. I don’t often have traffic to deal with in the morning. My 12 mile commute takes about 15 minutes, from driveway to parking lot, and some of that is Sbux time (this morning, a new twist: white chocolate non fat no whip mocha, which they apparently made with whipped cream and regular milk… one guess as to which barrista was manning the cups? Hmmm?), but this morning, one of the lanes onto the freeway was clogged. After seven minutes crawling along at 10 miles an hour, sipping my full-fat mocha, I saw the problem. There had apparently been some kind of accident, but a strange one. One of the vehicles, either a minivan or a very ugly small car, was sitting two hundred yards into a field, having come to stop under a little tree, almost as though it were tired and needed a nap. The other car was hanging over the guardrail, pointing into traffic, almost as though it had been coming down the on-ramp from the wrong direction. There were no people there, just four police cars surveying the scene. It looked to me like the aftermath of a nighttime accident as there didn’t seem to be any injured folks wandering around. Just many many police, looking as though they were anxious to hang out by the side of the road all morning. One policeman, though, had had ENOUGH of the rubbernecking. He was furiously egging the traffic forward, motioning with waving arms as though what he really wanted to do was pinch us, or possibly give us a good slap. As a general rule, I dislike rubbernecking and specifically try to keep my eyes forward, but the way he was vehemently directing traffic, it was just so personal, so furious… well, I could have watched him all day. I suspect that he was a rogue cop, a loner, or perhaps his partner had just been killed by a sniper in a drug bust and now he’s been assigned a smart talking rookie who is secretly dating his daughter. Or maybe he really had to pee.
Did I tell you that I purchased the equivalent of Manolo Blahnik shoes for my living room last weekend? Yes. Hardwood floors to replace the stinky carpeting from the era of Chelsea. I had been trying to eradicate the smell all winter with various chemicals and treatments, but I think the old kitty’s trademark had been left one too many times, and with the burgeoning warmer weather, it smells like cat pee again. Therefore we must rip out the carpeting and seal the subfloor. I am against carpeting in general. I loathe it. I suspect that it is part of the reason that my asthma is so bad during the winter. It always feels unclean. I have always lived in older homes and it feels strange to be in a home without them. In fact, one of the main reasons I agreed to purchase that house was because a clueless realtor lied to us and said that there were hardwood floors under all of the carpets in the original part of the house. Thus, the conversion has begun. Even though our kitchen still has only half a floor and half a subfloor in the new part. That will be next. After that, the kitchen, then my writing room that has been languishing for two and a half years, housing the World’s Ugliest Recliner and my lunchbox collection. And then we will concentrate on my other aspirations. Like overhauling the dining room. And then taking over the world.
Sniffle…. Spike, I will wait for you! No matter how long it takes, no matter what occurs. I will find you!
