The rain tonight is unrelenting. Hard enough to soak you through inside of a minute. Cold enough to chill you through like your skin isn’t even there. Incessant enough that the right lane of most streets is a lake in many spots, making any driver unfortunate enough to pass into an instant, pedestrian-soaking asshole. Sorry.

I was out tonight, buying more paint and register covers and towel bars, drove one end of town to the other, pretty much, from the time I left work. At times the rain was hard enough that I had my windshield wipers on at the highest setting. I hate that setting. It seems so frenetic, and makes me tense. This kept running through my head.

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he’s dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

— Stevie Smith

In my life, right now, there is more waving than drowning. This year in general there’s been plenty of both. Tired now. Two Amazing Race episodes on last week. None tonight. Oh well. Hungry, too, though not enough to care that I’m spooning in the occasional mouthful of cold Cream of Wheat to try and make my stomach stop bugging me. Got another big check mark item done tonight, though. More compliments on our work from my brother’s friends. They mean little to me, even though they are among the friends who’ve seen the house in all of its stages. One of those things that I don’t think anyone outside my family will be fully able to understand. There is evolution involved.

I am not pretty these days, not that that label gets applied much. I am back to having renovation hands, with rough, uneven nails, dry knuckles, painted cuticles, scratches, and scrapes. Need to shave my legs, too. Soon I will be able to burn those clothes. I am my father’s daughter. Fire is a rite.

I have been driven slowly mad over the past couple/few weeks, for alternating reasons. Mostly, though, because of knowledge, or a lack thereof. I am a person who needs to know things. I am also insatiably curious, and generally impatient. A virulent combination. And if there is something I want to know and can’t find out, or am refused, the hints of madness set in. Thinking too long and too hard. Thinking the worst. Irrationality. Grouchiness. Dana claims to be the same, which I find somewhat comforting. For some things I have near-infinite patience, at least on most days. Animals, staring out the windows of vehicles with nothing else to do. Reading. Most of the rest of the world? Not so much. This is the main reason I am not sure I would be parent material, though I gather that offspring force you to learn. Hard.

Fortunately, I think my attention span is too short to make me stalker material, but I understand how it starts. As often as not things tend to work out fine, but I am cognizant of what I am, and that it will happen again, so it’s not something I waste time feeling foolish over. Besides, I’m good at apologizing. A hazard of being me. Seriously, though, save me the madness and just talk to me.

The smell of the soap I washed my hands with at Chad’s reminds me of James’ aftershave. Funny how that smell sneaks up on me from time to time. I wonder how his first six weeks of married life have been?

Tomorrow is my first wine appreciation class. I’m looking forward to it, though I need to take or make lots of mental notes, since Sherry is so inconveniently in her own villa in Florida where she is not to feed the gators… 🙂

wet twigs

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *