The humidity is close to
unbearable. I suppose I could forgive the capricious
contractor for not showing up to paint the ceiling after
church today -- if he'd called. I'd have understood that
it's too humid to work. I couldn't even carry the trash
to the dumpster without feeling like I'd run a marathon.
The dumpster is full anyway so the remaining trash will
stay in my yard offending Pajama Woman and the Crazy Lady
until the trash company comes. At leat those weird little
flies from yesterday seem to be gone. Whatever they were
I never saw them before and hope I never see them again.
While I was waiting for the
capricious contractor to reappear I finished reading
Work to Live, which actually did give me some
insight into what makes a life; cleaned the toaster oven,
which I had set on fire yesterday warming some garlic
bread (it's fine now, no harm done); watched the Red Sox
and Tim Wakefield defeat the Detroit Tigers on TV, cooked
up a mess of broccoli rabe with olive oil, garlic, and
red pepper even though it's so hot I thought I'd keel
over at the stove -- still worth it -- melt a little
provolone cheese on it and it's heavenlyl; wrote up the
minutes of Wednesday night's cat shelter exec committee
meeting and board meeting; washed dishes (my dishwasher
is still non-functional due to a hole in the tub -- it's
on my list to buy a new one when I earn enough money to
stimulate the economy -- meanwhile I was dishes by hand
and try to treat it as a path to enlightenment; petted
Wilbur; cleaned up some spots on the carpet; threw away a
bunch of home decorating magazines (my secret vice); read
some more of Birds in the Bush, which is fun but
has no narrative drive to keep one reading; and how much
longer can I make this sentence?
I also blogged a lot in my new
improved stercus
blog, New because I am actually blogging in it. Improved
because I spelled it right in this incarnation. I tried
to name a blog after the Latin for compost a couple of
years ago and made a typo, naming it stercos, which I
kept because it sounded like a cross between a compost
heap and an operating system. Speaking of operating
systems I had some brilliant insight about UNIX the other
night while I was dreaming about falling out of bed while
having to give a speech in Hungarian with cue cards in
Spanish (yes it;s a recurring dream) but now I have no
idea what the great insight was. I told a guy the other
day that when I compain that I'm a UNIX head in a DOS
world people either immediately laugh and sympathize or
ask "What??????" Usually those are the DOS heads. They
don't know they are running DOS in their heads. They
don't know there's an operating system under all that
.... compost. Anyway I suppose dreaming I have insights
about UNIX is a whole lot saner than dreaming I imparted
secrets of governing to John Kerry. Why don't I ever
dream about Bush? And is Bush DOS or UNIX
based?
So anyway back to this blog thing.
I don't think I know how to participate in the
blogosphere like the big bloggers. I'm not involved in
any breaking news except about those really irritating
tiny flies, and my opinions aren't any more interesting
than the next guy's on most things. Nevertheless, to
avoid being left behind to rust in obsolesence I started
blogging about birds in the news. It's amazing how much
breaking bird news comes out of Scotland. Actually. maybe
it's not that amazing. Scotland is after all the land of
Charles
St. John.
I think I hear a corncrake... Just
kidding, twitchers. The odds against a corncrake in the
Greater Big Dig Area are astronomical. There's a better
chance of the Widen
Route 3 project actually
widening Route 3. There's a better chance of the Big Dig
actually making the commute to Boston faster. There's a
better chance ... of ... oh, I don't know.... six
impossible things before breakfast? Or my actually
learning Hungarian.
