Nostalgic for torn knees
Both bins are curbside. Full, to the point where lid closure is impossible. Consider that to be a positive thing; proof that our plan to discard the unimportant from our lives is underway.
I think my play style has changed, over time. Can’t remember the last time I tore the knees out of my jeans. Now, any extra daylight is in a whole different neighbourhood. I’ve just been over to visit with my friend Mark, and was able to find a replacement for a reasonable figure. Not my figure, exactly; the measurements have increased since back in my torn knee period. I did manage, though. I like that store; no need to talk to anyone. Choose from the racks, pay the amount shown on the register and get on out in record time. Return in a year or two, depending on how hard I play.
At home, the shoe surplus is over. They (the shoes) were everywhere; by the door, behind the couch, in the closet. Now, they’re at the curb (with all the other stuff), and this time tomorrow they’ll be happily incinerated. A sort of ceremonial finish to their life, at a point where their soles are done.
I think I dodged a virtual bullet, this afternoon. The lawn continues to grow, while my attention is on more important things. However, the lawn feed man came, and now we need to follow the mower around in concentric circles (or rectangles). My name was mentioned as “apt to go for a long walk”, but the afternoon just got away from me. Maybe this weekend, after the rain.
