Dreaming of whistles
Did the ground move beneath your feet this afternoon? Didn’t for me, either. The earthquake, centred some 15oo km away, made the news, though. Slow day in the south, I guess. As one relative put it (she lives in that area), “My pool was like a tidal wave. Kind of fun. I cant believe how everyone here freaking out. Stores closed, metro reports massive panic. Crazy.”
That about sums it up. I’d be a little more worried about the current hurricane season, what with a good blow heading for NC. That’s not that far from VA, and folks are apt to get a little more shock and awe if the storm shifts inland by even a few degrees. I’m much more conscious of what a good blow can do, after seeing the effects of Earl in Newfoundland (last year).
While others were rocking and rolling, I spent the day in my cubicle, watching the usual screens of yet another Windows install. Hate to think how many times I’ve had to watch that same spectacle, over the last couple of decades. Granted, there’s still room for a surprise ending, but I no longer stress over things like that.
Instead, I dream about acquiring a low whistle, or an Irish flute, or a “duo”. Yin and yang, in one easily packed bundle. I could become the wild-eyed scourge of quiet beaches! Just need to make a choice (there’s a lot of variety, out there), and send along my payment to the anointed reseller.
Or, I could make my own. PVC, the miracle material, available at a hardware store down the street.
