The laptop freezes infrequently but enough to make me save a document before I start it, which is good, sound practice in any case and I save it with a temporary name, whatever my fingers dictate, and today that is brugl.
And brugl reminds me of the 16th century Flemish painter, or family of painters, although "the Elder" is whom I would normally think of.
Which reminds me of the poster of a Brueghel print formerly over the desk of my childhood room in Dallas which reminds me of the balcony off that room which reminds me of sneaking out which reminds me of underage driving which reminds me of caution as a secondary aspect which reminds me of at least three 360s which reminds me of near death which reminds me of life which reminds me of the exact time and space when I heard one pedant correct another for saying broogul instead of broygal.
I just now got up to put the cereal bowl in the sink and when I came back I was nearly attacked by a piece of lint approximately the size of a tree frog, which turned out to be--a lint covered tree frog. I let out a yelp and did a jig on one foot. Then I scooped it up and put it outside which reminds me of the slug crawling across the kitchen floor this morning which I also scooped up, only with a spatula instead of the more common frog transporting drinking glass. I think you are getting an idea of the richness of my life. How full of interesting events does fill up even the more mundane moments of my day.
There is a potato-washing-runoff lake on the smooth finished concrete floor of the garage and I can see no way around the rearranging of all the crap I have let pile up in there followed by some ardent squeegeeing.
What do you have lined up for today? is apparently not a question to be asked of me this morning but if it were I could easily pair two unlikely words as answer.
Oh, yes. I forgot to tell you that the hose escaped the bucket I was filling last night for potato washing. I left some standing water in the breezeway. I had no idea, though, that the aftermath would look like there had been a monsoon in your garage. And for that I owe you an apology. I will scrub toilets with a pumice stone for the next two scrubbing rounds as penance. And save some of that ardent squeegeeing for me too, 'kay?
Today? Subnetting and goofing, the latter being an ordinary word, and not some sort of internet hacker slang.
I'll let you scrub the toilets Lorina but you gotta put muscle into it (yesterday I got my hands in the third of six toilets I'm scrubbing the rings out of a with pumice stone and Lorina comes in, stands over me, says, you gotta put muscle into it), and, Mark, I don't think it counts if one of the words pretty well describes your default setting, I'm just saying.
Actually, I decided to make use of the new spooler of weedeater filament I bought the other day. I weed whacked a fire break down slope from D's house (that time of year), and did a little cleanup in the orchard. The weed whacking in the orchard was cut short when I tore up a wasp nest. Due to my quick reactions, only got stung four times. I had dropped the weedeater to run away, and could hear its little two stroke motor idling down there. With about 30 wasps hovering over it, retrieving it was not an option. Thankfully the motor died after a few minutes, instead of idling through the just filled fuel tank.
Hmmm, think I'd rather clean toilets.
For the literal record, I still haven't rearranged all that crap.