In Contrast…
friday night, Mr. Omega and I went to dinner at our landlady’s. She’s an incredibly kind woman, but way too religious, IMO. (I’ve had to ask her not to please not invite me to go to church with her.) Right now, she is hurting and panicky about the economy — and about some very stupid moves she’s made over the past three or four years, and she did the overkill Xmas decor thing, with a bazillion light figurines and flashing strings of lights in abrupt proximity…
The other couple were as oddball in their way as we are in ours; he is a steadycam cinematographer, and can get shots that no one else can get– had some wild and woolly stories!
She works at the post office, as a mail sorter. In this day and age, that means she is an abject slave in constant fear for her job, and she vented to us– horrific stories, every bit as bizarre as his were. He had this look on his face every once in a while, of “how did I get hitched up with this woman?” and I’m sure he does wonder that. She had only one thing she could talk about, made her sound pretty ignorant. But then Mr. Omega mentioned old muscle cars, and we saw another side of her– her father was a champion Nascar and street racer, and she. Knows. Cars.
And then we stepped out to go home, and our van– our ratty pathetic junker of a van– was so fucking dead we had to tow it home.
So at this moment I am the proud owner of a four-wheeled lawn ornament.
Damn, I hate it when that happens.
Sigh.
Well, is it better to plant daisies in the driver’s seat, or attempt something artsy like, oh, climbing roses that require maintenance?
Oh, don’t look at *me* for god advice–back when *I* was a gardening noob, I was so silly as to plant Lady Banks rose and wisteria near each other. (A hundred feet apart counts as near, in those terms. Srsly.)
But good luck on repairs etc.
So at this moment I am the proud owner of a four-wheeled lawn ornament.
Put some lights on it and call it ART !
Aww. I’ve got one of those too. I parked it at the ‘rents. My father dreams of the day when I will get it hauled off. I’m actually kind of attached to it. It was PAID FOR. Sigh. I looked like a soccer mom, but man, I loved being able to just cram shit in there and not worry about how I was going to move it. Even with friends doing the work, it would cost about 1k to fix. 2.5K if I took it to a garage. Sigh again. Oh well. We were talking about you. I’m sorry for your lawn.
Damn, I hate it when that happens.
Sigh.
Well, is it better to plant daisies in the driver’s seat, or attempt something artsy like, oh, climbing roses that require maintenance?
Oh, don’t look at *me* for god advice–back when *I* was a gardening noob, I was so silly as to plant Lady Banks rose and wisteria near each other. (A hundred feet apart counts as near, in those terms. Srsly.)
But good luck on repairs etc.