Just about some leftovers and needy flora and fauna
I really don’t feel like writing today. I don’t like the way I’ve been writing. I’m going to try to do a "dramatic story rendering mode". Think "Guy Noir, Private Eye" from the Prairie Home Companion Show. Here it goes folks…
It was one of those days, Thursday to be exact, in which I got up, went to work and then came home tired from doing a whole lot of nothing. Sure, things got done; stuff I’m supposed to do, but today was just so unsatisfactory. The boss had invited me to lunch at the Rio Grande. I love Mexican food but I wanted to go and raid the fridges downstairs for some burgers and hot dogs that were left over from the previous day’s luncheon. Yes, it was yesterday’s meat; however, they were grilled over a charcoal fire and the price was right. Nothing like free meat to give some satisfactory sense to a lack-luster day. Still, I flipped a quarter and decided to let tails tell me that I should go to the Rio Grande. Heads. I stay and reheat the meat. That was the high point of today’s workday. Throw in some leftover macaroni salad and I was ecstatic.
I came home and there were whole bunches of people in my parking lot behind the apartment. An officer of the law was chatting with one of my downstairs neighbors. Other neighbors were looking on. A car was parked a bit haphazardly and I walked past it and everyone. Good. No yellow tape surrounding a body shaped object under a sheet. No blood spatters anywhere. I just want to go in and water my plants. I’m not exactly sure what happened. Something involving the teenager of the one neighbor. I decided instead to grab a t-shirt and do some fast walking on our rail-trail. They were calling for some thundershowers today and I wanted to beat the rain. Plus, I need the exercise.
Even walking was not giving me the high that I usually get. Sure, I’m not anywhere near the athletic prowess of the lean high school and college track runners who fly by. Hell, even gray haired guys doing that funky speed walking thing are passing me. I still can "feel the pain". Yes, I feel the pain. You know, it’s that little stone that somehow gets in your shoe and lodges right between the sole of the shoe and the sensitive portion of your foot that causes nerve endings to really come alive. Yes, I feel the pain. (I did break a sweat though).
I did my hour on the trail and got back to the apartment. The police car was gone. Time to water plants. I’ve been house, pet and plant sitting for some friends of mine and I’ve been neglecting my own place and plants. The peace lily looked like I felt. If it could speak I’m sure it would just say "what?" and then keep on drooping. Sorry old friend. You deserve better. The other plants had that "look". If you’re a plant keeper, you know the look. It’s that look of "I’m holding on and I need water and attention, NOW". They got watered. Chatted with a couple of them–you got to let them know they’re wanted, sometimes. And I do want them.
After the watering I decided to gather up some laundry and go back to my friends’ place. It’s quiet there. Plus, they have a washer and dryer and full cable TV. The cat was probably getting antsy.
So I’m here–the other place. The plants are fine. They don’t know me and I don’t know them and that’s okay. Sometimes it’s not easy to bond with a strange plant. "Misty" the cat, on the other hand, is very affectionate and very vocal. She wants to be with and near you no matter where you go. That cat is definitely a "pet me, hold me, touch me, be with me, don’t leave me, don’t abandon me, stay with me forever, I need your love" sort of cat. In fact, this cat is trying to get under my hands and arms as I @#9838hffwq er, type this very minute. Misty was fed and let out and petted and let out again. She is back and wants to cuddle. If you’re not a cat lover, you may either wish to kill the thing and reaffirm your dislike for such creatures or you may become a cat lover. If the latter, you will have to discover that most cats do indeed want attention but then could care less about you once they get what they want.
I’ve got more laundry to do and it’s 11 PM. I have some leftover pizza in the microwave and the little bell went off about a half an hour ago. So. This was my day. A day of leftovers—leftover food, chores, desires. Sometimes you just end up sitting in your office, starring out the window knowing that life is happening out there and wondering what it’s all about. Probably a lot of other people in other places are doing the same thing in their offices, some even wishing they had actual windows. I can’t really complain though. I can get away with contemplation there and no one notices, except my office plants. They were giving me that "look".
