Tiny black flying insects so
much smaller than midges that I can't even see them when
they're swarming have taken over the general environs of
my condo. Pajama Woman was sitting out by the pool
swatting at them then came back over here to complain to
me about them. So I'm standing there in the parking lot
listening not only to the tale of the tiny flies but to
her entire life story and all the while I keep feeling
little jolts to my skin like when a small rock hits you
in a high wind or something sharp jabs you for just a
second. All this time I am not seeing these little flies
she's talking about. Granted I just went to the eye
doctor a week ago and ordered new glasses so I will no
longer look like a total dork in my big glasses held
together with picture wire but the prescription isn't
that different. But I'm not seeing these flies at all and
Pajama Woman is talking my ear off and if I don't get in
the car and drive to the market for groceries I am going
to be fainting by suppertime. Aiiieee!
So after supper I'm up here in my
study/office/room where the computer is and a very very
small black fly lands on my monitor screen. Totally
visible against the white background of the document I'm
working on. No wonder I couldn't see these things
outside. They are so small they can fit through the mesh
of the window screens! Then I start feeling those sharp
jolts again. Yikes, I think they bite! Time to close the
window no matter how stiflingly hot it is in
here.
Did I mention it's 90 degrees and
like 80% humidity?
Little violent thunderstorms are
popping up all over. It will be perfectly clear on one
side of the street and dark and deluging with high winds
and pink lightning on the other. I kept driving in and
out of these things while doing errands. I'd be driving
along without even the windshield wipers on and suddenly
I can't see a thing and the road is underwater. Scary.
The capricious contractor is here
repairing the ceiling of my kitchen now that the
distribution
pipe in the bathtub has
been replaced and the tub surround installed. I can
already see that he's doing a far more professional job
than the evil book-phobic homophobic painter/handyman who
destroyed my house and failed to fix the problem. The
current capricious contractor even brings a helper to
clean up after him. All this was supposed to happen next
weekend not this weekend, but he called this morning and
said he was coming to my house to finish the work and it
will all be done by tomorrow. Somehow I think he/they
suddenly realized that next weekend is Labor Day weekend.
Who knows. The sooner I am done dealing with this, the
better. Of course, given the 1960's plumbing in this
house, I never know where something is going to break
next.
Speaking of the sixties, I totally
don't get why the media is so into talking about the 1968
Democratic National Convention (police riot in Chicago)
in the run up to the Republican National Convention when
they were barely mentioning it in the runup to the DNC. I
heard that Buffalo Springfield song, For
What It's Worth, on
Weekend Edition this morning after some commentary about
the '68 convention. What's interesting about that song in
retrospect is that it was written in 1967! Stephen Stills
obviously had a prescient understanding of how the battle
lines were being drawn. What a field day for the heat!
Just the other day, Ned and I were talking about how the
country is currently about the most divided it's been
since 1968. Actually maybe we've been this divided all
along but the boomer generation was too busy raising
their kids and making their fortunes to notice they had
unfinished business. Now that Bush and Kerry have
awakened the painful memories we're just paying attention
again. The Bush and Kerry campaigns are rehashing the
divisions this country had around the VietNam war instead
of talking about the war(s) we're currently in. Both of
them should cool it lest the battle lines of old start
being drawn again. The sixties are over, boys. Move
on.
Come to think of it, I think
they bite too.
