I worked today. Sort of.
My father, grandmother, and I went back to the cabin by the pond on our property, and went to clear all the junk out of it, and go through it to see if anything would be useful for inside our houses. (The quote of the day is from my grandmother, 'Them two's ain't no use.' It's a wonder I can still speak English.)
And I was going to help, but, for some reason, failed to take into account that inside the cabin there would be massive quantities of dust. Which, in me, leads to an incessantly running nose, itchy eyes, and a propensity to sneeze every few seconds. Not to mention hives, if I'm particularly unlucky.
Needless to say, I wasn't much help.
I did what I could, but most of my time was spent pacing and walking around outside, singing to myself. Spoon, Minus the Bear, Voltaire, and The Apples in Stereo, mostly. For the people like me, who wonder about these things.
I watched the rain start and stop and start again, pounding on the sheet of ice that still covers most of the pond. Watched a long-dead, orange leaf skitter across the same sheet of ice, at one point. Dancing. Listened to the wind whistle through the trees. Watched the sun make silver, and at one point gold, streaks and spots on the water.
It's beautiful, really. I felt peaceful. I thought about all the memories I have attached to that particular place, and It Was Good.
And I got dirty. But now I am clean, huzzah!
Yeah, that's good enough for now. End.
revoless.
6:23 p.m.
March 01, 2004.
Listening to: Spoon.
Church without cynicism, take one or In which I go against my rational mind and rant about a boy