I'm still pretty much psyched, politically, although I wish we didn't have to wait for January 20 and could just go about installing the Obamas and their puppy in 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue right NOW, but on the other hand, however much I'd like to see W riding out of town today on a proverbial rail (this has always puzzled me, because in my head I picture it as sort of a railroad rail, long and heavy and metal, that would mysteriously be installed in the town in question with one end going unequivocally out of town, and then the rail rider sort of slides from one end to the other, which always seemed like, well, a lot of work just to throw the bums out) with a nice coating of tar and feathers, I hope the Obamas are all resting and taking some time off and all that good shit.
On the nonpolitical front, however, I'm somewhat less happy, as it has come to my attention that just moving from one house to another is not enough: you then have to start cleaning the new house. This seems unfair, somehow, like you should get a month off from dust and dishes but, alas, such is not the case and my house is starting to look dingy even though all the boxes are far from unpacked. Bah. So I need to spend the weekend organizing and cleaning and all that kind of stuff when all I really want to do is build this peculiar jewelry holder that I have in my head.
I need somewhere to hang up necklaces and my stunning collection of extremely cheap mostly plastic bracelets and I've figured out a way to do that using wood and dowels and my remarkable carpentry skillz. The QOB said that what I needed was a giant hand, which is, she said, the traditional method of jewelry keeping and display. "It is?" I said, "I've never seen it." and she laughed. No, a giant hand isn't going to cut it. I want to build something. I need a Project, because, apparently, my real projects including organizing and fixing up the kitchenette area downstairs and fixing up young M's area so that I can use it again and turning the spare room into something other than a repository for boxes containing stuff I can't even bear to look at yet.
But oh well, cleaning and projects and even walking the dogs in the morning: you might think I was getting settled or something. Whoot.
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2 comments:
I thought they tied you to the rail, and then somebody carried either end of it. I could totally be wrong about that.
There's a railroad crossing in Oakley that always makes me feel something. It's a small road in a residential woods, and as you cross you look over and see the tracks gradually arcing away around a bend with forest on both sides. If you're lucky, you get stuck waiting for a train to go by, and then you get to watch it slowly chug away. It's a poignant view of departure, with the powerful determination and finality of all that heavy metal. And yet so slow... At least we can take comfort that it will indeed happen, and besides Bush really has effectively gone away (uh-oh what about the pardons?), and Obama ain't wasting any time in the meanwhile.
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