 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
||||||||||
 |
 |
 |
|
||||||||
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
||
 |
|
||||||||||
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
|||||||
Its 1am and I'm thoroughly
tired. I can't enjoy the warm feeling my skin had from being in the
sun all day because my fan is on in preparation for tomorrow when the
sun warms my room. So I'm sitting here in my borrowed puma jacket, drowsily
writing my journal.
Today we finally went
to the nursery. The sales woman was very effective, mostly because she
loved plants. She was a very knowledgeable and chatty older woman who
referred to the plants and trees we purchased as "new friends."
I liked her a lot because of her simplicity and good will and would
have bought about anything she told me to. Wandering the place made
me wonder what I would buy for my house. It's expensive, we bought 500
dollars in trees and roses and we're not near done. I saw a lizard for
a first time in a while, the little desert ones that used to be all
around the old house. They're a little larger that fish tank salamanders.
I've never actually caught one, but when I see them I think of the stories
about how much their tail bleeds when the detach it, and yelling at
Keith because he handled one too rough and it lost a leg.
Mom found a Kohl's
and promptly had us go there to scope it out. I couldn't tell you how
old our cashier was, I'm not good at age, but he was on the older end.
I wondered if I should pity him. There are standards of living far worse
than his, but I feel bad. Working in a low wage, mindless job, serving
me at that age, it evokes an emotional response out of me. Though at
the same time, someone has to do it, and he's living so I probably shouldn't
feel too bad.
I played ex-pfc Isbell
(Catch-22 reference) today, digging holes in the desert of Southern
California. Me, Dad, and for a while Eric, were working on the sprinklers
for the back yard. I wonder how I'm ever supposed to manage to do what
my dad does on my own, knowing what to buy at Home Depot, putting things
in, modifying it when things don't fit right. Eric's capable of more
dig power than I am, but I was willing to stay out there longer. At
one point I was sitting there on the concrete by the dirt watching the
red ants. I'm not particularly fond of them because I have a memory
of walking down the sidewalk by the Avon house (which means I was 2nd
grade or younger) and a red ant bit my ankle cause I was wearing sandals
- hurts a lot. Sherlock only had little black ants, though there were
tons of them. These suckers I could see all over the backyard, watching
sand move as they scurried up piles of it.
Thinking about re-doing
the webpage so I'm barely awake, waiting for my pirated software to
finish downloading.