I do not have time to stay down. I shall collapse into a heap of emo-ness later. Or never. Or something. We shall see.
In the heraclean task of consolidating my stuff, I have found a plethora of odds and ends which I had abandoned to the abyss of oblivion. I have found books that I had not read since high school. I found projects of art and engineering that had long since been forgotten. I found the guitar that I owned before Dulcinea … the case was battered beyond belief; the handle, hinges, and latches were gone; and the strings were corroded but the body, neck, and tuning pegs were all fine.
What I have not found is the cord to my camera. No pictures of turducken yet. Please do not ask. You’ll know when I have found it, because there will be pictures.
Speaking of turducken, I am almost out of leftovers. The bones made a delicious stock. At least, I assume that it was delicious. After stewing it in the slow cooker all night, I went to transfer the heady brew into smaller containers … and wound up spilling it all over the floor!
It was like one of those moments on film where everything slows down and HUGE, dramatic music begins to play. I tend to think that Orff’s “Carmina Burana” would do nicely in this case. I had poured the broth from the slow cooker through a strainer and into a large mixing bowl. I would break up the stock into convenient portions and put them all into the deep freeze. Simple, no? The phone rang and I moved quickly. Too quickly. The mixing bowl performed a beautiful somersault spreading liquid joy throughout the kitchen like droplets of delicious rain across the desert of my linoleum floor.
You may laugh. I did. Sometimes there really is no choice but to do so.
Also, my ex’s toilet is attempting a rebellion. We are engaged in a battle of wits and the day that I allow an inanimate object to beat me in one of those … will hopefully not be today. It would set a poor precedent. Next thing you know, the appliances would think I had gone soft and then it would be nothing but work! work! work! all the time. And then? Anarchy! Dogs and cats. Living together! Oh, wait. That last bit happened all the time in the places I grew up.