Fish Eye Wall Eye Russ

Meet Russ.




Cuss, Russ, cuss. You muss.

The Cross Winds Doth Blow Twixt n' Afro

So's I spent a lifetime of emotional preparation for the purge that took place Thursday and Friday. My room is clean.* Completely finished. Empty. Calm. Conducive. Boring. Perfect.

And lookit what I found 'neath the stuff 'neath my bedruff: the Eveready Ready-to-Go Readymade Stainless Steel Emergency Fire Blaze Anti-Nazi Window-Bashin' Escapist Wit Chain Ladder trapped in a dusty display box circa 1980 or whenever I was born. Smacks of Thrift Store tack, couldn't hardly handle a child's weight, let alone the generous claimed carrying capacity of 'two [thoroughly average and rotund] countrymen,' so I thought, so I've always thought on those five occasions when I ventured a tentative glance under my mattresses.

But it held up. I finally gave it a test clamber (thereby damaging the door a bit farther)and it holds my admittedly non-hefty baggage. Impressive.

Makes me all excited for the fierce, flaming tongue of destiny.





*Well, it's pretty clean. There's still too many dead bodies stocked behind the library books in the closet (Cask of Amontillado style, no less), an excess of dried ferret dung crusted between the floor boards, and a wealth of unabashed sentiment staining the walls. So sue me. Baby steps. One twenty-odd year period at a time.

Tottering On Potter Bling

Meanwhile, I've been up to my shin guards in catching up on that whole Harry 'Canon Fodder' Potter craze, initially instigated by my fellows and ladies at work and later driven by the fun of it all. Today marks my finishing of the series, half-read by the page, half-heard through the riveting Jim Dale. Luckily, my hands had plenty of manual labor during the audio-imbibing process. After the second coat tomorrow, our dining room is finished, its numerous cracks healed and sealed, its many scrapes covered and smothered.

A major force in the painting movement. Who knew?