Dishes are flying

First thing this morning I’m loading the dishwasher and break the Seattle cup I got when Pup and I went to the Wet-side years ago. Rats! It wasn’t even a particularly violent act. Just one less thing to care about I suppose.

The payment for the van is in Kentucky. That paperwork is closer to Detroit than when it was sitting on the porch step unopened and waiting for Gibson the cat to pee on it.

Wu wanted to go get his friend in town. That let me collect mail and replenish the milk supply at a local quicky mart. I left the friends monitoring the gas refill and went into the sort of new place for the first time. They advertise weird vape stuff, Kratom, pot stuff, etc. None of that my thing so I wouldn’t usually go in there but a quick empty store with a gallon of milk on the way. Now really its a liquor store. It was like a fortress with outer walls made of booze bottles surrounding anything else that might be food or household items. It physically forced you to circle the whole store if you wanted anything that wasn’t alcohol. I don’t even drink anymore but the design logic was fascinating.

Got bills paid and baked bread for the first time since the beginning of the summer. Delphyna made fun of me 2 years ago when I bought a used (really never used) bread machine at a thrift shop for $3. When would have even guessed this would be one of the most important appliances in the house for this particular year.

Tried to hand the friend a plate of butter and sailed it across the room. Somehow I didn’t break it because predictably it landed butter side down. What the hell is wrong with me today?

Two or three weeks ago I was mooning over Dauphin Island, which is kind of a dumb place to moon over.  The first thing I saw when I returned to civilization was a picture of that place with a little car with its nose buried in the sand from yet another storm. I wasn’t looking for that.  It just put itself there without my asking while I drove into the smoke. Weird.

Unpacking at any destination is also packing up for the next place. No matter how long you think you are staying the departure has already begun. Now I’m very disoriented putting my “go bag” back together as I do laundry and empty the car. Weird things are found in the washer, things you can’t remember ever having to begin with. There’s the shotgun shell though you didn’t have a gun, a jump drive with the lost photos from someone’s family reunion but you didn’t have a computer with you. There are wads of kleenex when you spent the whole week without blowing your nose and wrappers from candy bars you didn’t have on any trip you can remember. Did aliens abduct me at some point? I have no memory to explain some of what was in the washer and dryer. So I’m nearly ready to go wherever I might be headed next but awfully worried there’ll be a long winter between me and the next siren call. Oh, sea reference. Hippy beach maybe?

(Car payment is in Kentucky effers.)