I'm miserable this morning. I have to leave in a minute to take my car to the fix-it shop. My brakes are going out. The other day, the pedal went to the floor without stopping the car. Weird feeling. I was able to pump the brakes and get them to work. Trouble? Master cylinder, they say. But I have to have the car their early. Worse, I have no way home and will have to walk. Oh, I walk every day, but when you must, it is no longer a game. I don't know how far the shop is from my house, but it seems a long way. I have become accustomed to my leisurely morning routine. I don't even have time to get through the papers. Or my pot of coffee. I will be carless all day. Now, I don't usually go anywhere in this Time of Covid, but not having the option will be maddening.
How will I pick up my car, you ask? I haven't figured that out yet. I might Uber.
I bought a new washing machine yesterday. The $445 washer cost me over $600. Don't ask. Once you are there, you just do it. They will deliver it tomorrow, another day of waiting. Then Friday, the Wrecking Crew comes. Three days of. . . of my time being. . . not my time. Oh, man, it feels like work again.
And so, I must away. But before I go, what an explosion in Beirut. Once the Paris of the Middle East because of its beauty and liberal ways, it is now a burnt out wasteland. Religious zealotry can ruin anything.
Right?
Been having those sorts of days lately as well. The joys of home and car ownership.
ReplyDeleteI hope things turn up better soon.
Until then, here’s a Booker T Jones tune for you.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e2KiTJglE5k
ReplyDeleteThings get worse before they get better?
I'm talking about my back, of course. I fucked it up. But I'm working it out. Sucks getting old, Etc.
What I really want for dinner is a giant buffet of Indian food. Not a real buffet which is only served during the day - but a delicious selection from the menu. Bad. But I didn't order take out. I should have. I can taste it.
Instead tonight I have prepared "Amy's Indian Palak Paneer." Via the most likely cancer causing cooking machine.
But there are no veggie samosas. or hot fresh naan. or those tasty little vessels of spiciness. There is no Indian cricket or football on the big screen T.V. and I do not have a cold Kingfisher. And I'm not yaking to anyone about anything. Well. I mean I sort of am but it is really, at this point - a silent whine.
Christ. I gotta cut that whining shit out.
I always wanted to go to Beirut. Prolly that's out. But I still can picture it - in my head - what it was and represented.
Phooey. This Amy's is strictly serving as an agitator. Barely good. Should I get real Indian food tomorrow? I will drive over and see. What's happening at the Indian Pavilion.
Yes. Religion is no bueno. It's just people - who want power. I have studied many "religions." Boy does it go haywire from the real quest. We've been through this - Paul was a misogynist - blah blah blah.
The picture is a little like a pride fest. Only I forget if NASCAR likes gay people or not. I think they recently discovered that some involved with the "sport" have issues with brown people - but others stood up against that belief. I don't know the stance on same sex love.
Funny, I never get overwrought about stuff like appliances. We need them. We use them. They break. We have to get new ones. It bugs everyone around me - especially my mother - about my nonchalance about such mundane issues. That's my father in me. "This too shall pass."
I do not like my morning routine fucked around with tho. However, I have not been able to care about the crosswords for two days. It is counting against my streak. Which reminds me - Q used a word I don't know in a recent post. I have to look it up.
Let's see. Hannah and the girls picked their rooms for their new apartment today. She's at orientation at Tufts. She is well pleased she got the room with the biggest closet. My darling son will be close soon - and that's surely something to look forward too.
However, I've been utterly fainéant with regard to my studies. I've been swimming in - what did you call it ? A while back? Jello?
Mine is more gooey. Like the inside of a perfectly toasted marshmallow or like the salted caramel you can add to a sundae after melting it down.
It isn't horrible - by any means - it just isn't making me feel sharp or wanting to pick up the six million books I have towered around.
It makes me want to just swing in the hammock or glide in my Ma's big wicker chair that she has on her porch. Or play with kittens.
It happens, right?
I think c.c. posted the song for Lisa.
ReplyDelete