I Forgot To Eat
I was thinking about having breakfast down in the basement, eating my food right off the floor, but it may not be as spic and span as all that. I set the pile of burnable contents on fire last night. I am thinking about pressure washing the floor but will need to get a new sump pump before I do that. I am hungry but not feeling like cooking.
The diner is closed on Sunday. A few days ago I was eating in there, at the counter section to the left of the register, about which the waitress always says, oh I didn't see you, no one ever sits over here. I was thinking, I don't see why not, it is the best place to eavesdrop on this table of prominent old local men, among them an ancient doctor who eats in silence and a lawyer who tells stories about the goings on at the courthouse, with an educated but thickly accented tone, and there seems to be a garage owner and maybe a prominent tobacco grower or two. At the table there is a fair amount of guffawing which goes on and it is apparently an unwritten rule to not let there be too much silence in between stories. There is a polite rotation between the men and they rarely talk over each other. I can't really get the gist of the stories, partly because of the accents and partly because, even if I were sitting at the table as invited guest, there is here in North Carolina often the presupposition that the listener possesses intimate knowledge about things, places, and people, he really has no way of knowing anything about. I sometimes find myself falsely nodding, for example after being assured that I do know that road that forks off over by the shutdown two stall carwash, where Billy Jenkins flipped his Camaro?
...I never did eat anything this morning, instead I beat senseless an aluminum carport frame into smaller pieces and added it to a pile and put some more stuff on the burn pile and now I'm at the hot spot getting ready to post this and then get something to eat. The tech guy just called me on my cell and he's very apologetic saying their "engineers" pinged to my modem, etc, etc, and they probably think there is something wrong with my computer, they don't care that I'm checking email and posting this from a hotspot. They are sending somebody to the house with a laptop tomorrow to get to the bottom of these crazy accusations that their service is faulty. I will be there I told Matthew the tech guy.
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I was thinking about having breakfast down in the basement, eating my food right off the floor, but it may not be as spic and span as all that. I set the pile of burnable contents on fire last night. I am thinking about pressure washing the floor but will need to get a new sump pump before I do that. I am hungry but not feeling like cooking.
The diner is closed on Sunday. A few days ago I was eating in there, at the counter section to the left of the register, about which the waitress always says, oh I didn't see you, no one ever sits over here. I was thinking, I don't see why not, it is the best place to eavesdrop on this table of prominent old local men, among them an ancient doctor who eats in silence and a lawyer who tells stories about the goings on at the courthouse, with an educated but thickly accented tone, and there seems to be a garage owner and maybe a prominent tobacco grower or two. At the table there is a fair amount of guffawing which goes on and it is apparently an unwritten rule to not let there be too much silence in between stories. There is a polite rotation between the men and they rarely talk over each other. I can't really get the gist of the stories, partly because of the accents and partly because, even if I were sitting at the table as invited guest, there is here in North Carolina often the presupposition that the listener possesses intimate knowledge about things, places, and people, he really has no way of knowing anything about. I sometimes find myself falsely nodding, for example after being assured that I do know that road that forks off over by the shutdown two stall carwash, where Billy Jenkins flipped his Camaro?
...I never did eat anything this morning, instead I beat senseless an aluminum carport frame into smaller pieces and added it to a pile and put some more stuff on the burn pile and now I'm at the hot spot getting ready to post this and then get something to eat. The tech guy just called me on my cell and he's very apologetic saying their "engineers" pinged to my modem, etc, etc, and they probably think there is something wrong with my computer, they don't care that I'm checking email and posting this from a hotspot. They are sending somebody to the house with a laptop tomorrow to get to the bottom of these crazy accusations that their service is faulty. I will be there I told Matthew the tech guy.
- jimlouis 6-29-2008 2:35 pm