First, lets peek behind the walls
Blogging has been absent the past ten days. I’ve been giving my kitchen the Ikea makeover.
I budgeted two days for sorting out the 1948 wiring, and the highly dubious add-ons from the 1980’s.
That was a tad optimistic.
Trixie found a cubby hole in the bamboo at the very back of the yard, and spends her days there, as far from the crazed man as possible.
We hold on to the leash for her own good. There are no internal limits on frolic, unless she learns them the hard way, which we don’t have the stomach for. Impulsive joy will lead her past a point where she can find her scent home. There will be freeways and fences between us. There will be Parvo-ridden pools of stagnant water. There will be anti-freeze lurking in overturned hubcaps. Scorpions. Razor wire. Dognappers. Drainpipes which lead to tight corners in which she can’t turn around.
In the dark recurring dream I have from time to time, I finally find her on the other side of Sepulveda. Catching sight of me, she bounds forward, ears back, happy and relieved, into a charnel house of indifferent cars….
The bonds of restraint we can place on people are not so simple. Short of incarceration, we rely on an admixture of love, shame and subsidy, in different portions, to guide people away from or toward their worst instincts.
After the RV, you’re down to the shopping cart.
After the shopping cart, you’re down to the rolling bucket on wheels.
When you can’t walk anymore, they call the paramedics to take you away.
Then one day your Mother can’t find you. You’re gone.
Andy banishes cobwebs
You know you have a problem with pet dander in your house when you invite a friend over for a craft beer tasting, and after an hour or so, he grabs a broom and starts swatting at the rafters. Memphis the cat sauntering up and down the countertops like he owns the place doesn’t help.
What can I say? In Van Nuys, we comfortable with ourselves.