I don’t know. Maybe it’s the gloomy weather, maybe it’s just general ennui. I am feeling low today.
My mood is greatly affected by the falling barometer so maybe that’s what this whole day is about. I don’t think so because I had physical pangs about something that I wanted to happen on Sunday that didn’t happen. A ridiculous thing that I had no control over anyway. But I haven’t been the same since.
I’m pretty mopey.
And it’s not like I don’t have things to think about. Work, for instance. Or Venetian blinds. It that term still in use? It is in Wilkes-Barre, or it was during my entire childhood. Not that anyone there could have found Venice on a map, or known what the connection was to the sharp metal window coverings with thick fabric tape and actual rope holding them together. Of course, Wilkes-Barre is still coming to terms with the reality of what a mango is.
And so I have become the thing that I have always hated. I am now a person who layers multiple coverings over a window. Here it is, blinds and curtains.
The irony is that now I have beautiful new windows that tilt in or come out entirely for cleaning and so they don’t even have to be hidden! Well, it had to be done. First, even though I have perfected the Crouch and Slink method of getting around the room between showering and dressing, but still the days are longer now and there are more people in the street so sooner or later someone was going to see a bewb. Also, the sun is hotter now and this room has exposure on two sides, so it’s about to get ridiculous enough in NJ without having sun burning through the panes as if they were a magnifying glass. Blinds it had to be and I certainly couldn’t give up the curtains so here we are.
Also, do those slats look crooked to you?
And look at this thing.
I have actually investigated one of these for private purchase. They’re called Smoking Stations and they’re less expensive than you’d think. Even though they hold 4 gallons or 3,000 butts -however you wish to measure it -and are meant to safely extinguish live butts, it turns out they are their own fire hazard if you don’t dump the butts. Look again:
It’s been a long time since anyone emptied this thing, and when they did they left the connection to the collection bucket in the bottom ajar. What a spectacular sight that will be the day this thing goes on fire!
I was actually quite pleased with my heightened awareness of Smoking Station maintenance and safety. I was probably the only one in the whole diner parking lot, save for my charming brunch companion, whom I gladly brought up to speed on this. So you see it’s not as though I am a Dull Dora. I have quite a lot going on. It’s just that I am exceptionally listless today.