Groovy

Let me begin again.  I was writing the post but kept responding to incoming messages.  When I read back what I had been writing. . . .  I'll just start over.  

Let's see. . . what were the best parts?  Um. . . Sky sent me a Spring song on the last day of Winter. . . beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky. . . today a carbon copy. . . yada yada yada. . . mad as a Hatter. . . .

I think that about does it.  

The maids came yesterday while I was at the gym, so the house sparkles for Spring.  It feels symbolic.  But the lawn guys have not come and the ground is covered in leaves.  Maybe today.  

I'll not do it because. . . here' the thing.  I haven't had the pep I used to have since I got run over.  Oh, I try, and I pretend, and I do a good job, but it is just a fact.  I've decided to "be kind to myself" and to "give myself permission."  That's what the self-help book I am reading says I should do.  To wit: I've decided to limit myself to doing one thing each day.  If I do more, that's a victory, but it just ain't necessary.  Yesterday was a good day.  I did several little projects.  The first was to fix the lock on the apartment.  The tenant got locked in and I had to come up to let her out.  So yesterday I got my toolbox and some graphite and went up to do a bit of man's work.  I had watched four or five YouTube videos on fixing locks.  They made it look so easy.  I know from experience, however, that nothing ever goes the way it should.  Probably the first mistake I would make would be trying to get the old screws to turn.  I would strip them and sweat and cry.  Or, if they came out o.k., I'd find rotten wood or something that wasn't in the videos.  If I needed to change the lock, these old ones would probably not be the same size as the new hardware, and then I'd have to cut larger holes.  I would have to buy an attachment for my drill, and then I would cut it wrong so that I needed a whole new door.  Trust me.  

So I did the first simple thing that I had learned.  I spritzed graphite dust into the key hole, then the--hell, I don't even know what it is called. . . the thing that goes in and out of the cylinder, the locking mechanism. . . whatever it is called.  After turning it a few times, it was working as it had before.  

Hero.  

Except I got graphite dust all over the floor.  I got a paper towel to wipe it up.  And again.  And again.  

"I'm not really a very handy handyman," I said.  "That's why the experts cleaned my house today."

"Well. . . lucky you."

"Nope.  It's not luck.  It's a simple exchange of values.  I give them money and they clean the house.  No luck involved at all."

The second bit of heroism was changing the burned out light on the front of the apartment twenty feet off the ground.  I don't feel as brave as I used to.  Climbing that shaky, two part twenty foot ladder kind of scares me now.  It reaches to just below the light fixture which means I have to climb up and stand on the top rung, one hand against the house for balance.  It sucks.  Yea, I've climbed thousand foot rock faces and 19,000 foot peaks.  And I used to come up this ladder without fear, too.  But man. . . if I fell now. . . .  

I felt a nice rush when I was back on the ground.  

VICTORY!

Today. . . replacing the S-trap or J-trap or whatever it is called on the sink in the guest bathroom.  I will have help.  

Did I tell you I finally fixed the doorknob that Red broke. . . a year ago?  Yea.  I did that.  

But it is a day to be outside.  I'd like a good cafe and a cool and groovy crowd.  Yea, yea. . . funky.  Not prissy sophisticates but hip hugger hippies in cowboy hats and love beads.  

I've been eating like a hippie lately.  I haven't prepared a piece of meat for six days.  I'm not becoming a vegetarian.  I'm not being didactic or ideological.  There was chicken in the soup I ate.  But for the last two nights, I've fixed sautéed vegetables with seared teriyaki tofu.  I feel light.  It is nice.  I'll not avoid meat, fish, or poultry, but I think I will keep them as flavoring and side dishes.  I'm going to quit fearing carbs.  I'll eat brioche or croissants with my cafe coffee if I please.  Wear a beret if I want.  Smoke clove cigarettes.  

Are they still a thing?

I've been wearing a bracelet I got for my birthday.  It makes me feel cool.  Yesterday at the gym, the bio prof asked me if that was my "love bracelet."  He said he'd break it for me.  I had to perform some trig functions to figure that one out.  

"Yea. . . I guess it kind of is."  

I just Googled "love bracelet."  She did NOT get me the Cartier.  That seems to be the one of choice.  But the best love bracelet I ever had was one woven by a young girl out of green, red, and yellow strands.  She tied it on.  It lasted for a very long time.  I ran into her in Fresh Market a few months ago.  I think the bond still holds.  

Maybe I should burn some sage today and clear out any bad ju-ju that may linger here.  Then I'll light an oil burner filled with frangipani.  

It is Spring

    far        

                and

                            wee!

I slept late and must start my day.  I've lingered already far too long this morning.  

I'll just end by leaving you a groovy, cool song.  I want you to feel groovy, too.