“I have no mockings or arguments…I witness and wait.”
-Whitman, Song of Myself
Because it was late, and I needed something now, I bought Leaves of Grass for the Kindle. It simply will not do. I’m sure Walt would be reassuring:
Not an inch nor a particle of an inch shall be vile, and none shall be less familiar than the rest.
But especially now that I am out of the preface and into Song of Myself, there is a falseness to the electrons, a way that the text is a little mocking, but not with mockery, rather with its earnestness. A mockery by truth for which truth no doubt would apologize if it knew – but that’s the thing about innocence. You don’t honk at the child squat over a bug in the street. He never knew you.
Breathing room. I pulled up the last plank of old wood yesterday:
I worked my way closer to the door as I went. A decision I made on purpose in the beginning, and am very happy about. I am capable and competent, but I often make small poor choices along the way. This time I knew that I would become sick of carrying wood out to the Jeep, and making my trips shorter as I progressed would be a good call. It was.
Now the new wood is in the house:
It’s funny how that doesn’t really look like much wood. It looks like a lot when I’m standing next to it. It felt like a lot when I carried it into the house, one bundle at a time. It’s 900sf, and I hope it’s enough.
The 4 year old boy who lives two doors up the not-so-dead-end street always comes running down to my driveway when he hears me throwing wood into the back of the Jeep. He just watches, asks “what are you, um, what are you doing,” even though he knows what I’m doing because he’s asked me 6 times a day for a a week. I answer the same way every time, that “I’m just putting more of the old wood in the car, so I can take it to the dump.” Yesterday, once that little formality was out of the way, he stood there, the fingers of his hands playing with each other and his eyes glancing to and from mine in that way that meant that he had something he really wanted to say, so I waited. After a few seconds he said, “the wood smells delicious.”
“Heck yeah,” I said, “love the way -“
“It smells just like ketchup.”
I plan to start installing the new floor Monday. Until then I can clean up and check for spots that might cause me some hangups in the installation, like wood that didn’t cut away from the base of the cabinets as cleanly as I need. It’s nice to have the extra time. If the new wood was ready to install today, I would just be driving forward and dealing with issues as they arose, which would be frustrating. This was an accidental boon, and I’ll capitalize.
Have to go gget some empty propane tanks exchanged, too, because the oven is fully removed, and too heavy to put back into place until it is time. All meals from the grill for the next little while here.
Ok ok, boring post here, I know. We’ll see what Whitman and wood can wake in me over the next couple of weeks.
-Plan ahead, Comrade Citizen!-
4 thoughts on “The PVP Diaries #80”
I may have mentioned this before but the 1855 edition is the only real transmission.
Indeed you have. This one says 1855 edition, but there’s no telling what the kindle is doing to the construction – line breaks and spacing and such. I’m off to the bookstore today.
Your certainly have your work cut out for yourself with this flooring project. I laid 800 sq. ft. of carpet tile after removing the old carpet in 2019. I told my husband this is the last major project I am doing. Working on that floor about killed me. Working at floor level is so hard on the body. Take care of your “young” body while you still have one.
I’m tired of it, KC. I was going to start putting the new floor down today, but I just can’t get up for it. Tomorrow…