Bought an old stethescope at the Kiwanis. For those of you who don't know, Ann Arbor's Kiwanis thrift is open only on Saturday, and only in the morning. Creates a sense of event, and of urgency. Nonetheless, after carrying it around for 10 minutes, I managed to resist the urge to give 'em a buck for the "Magic Wand"---not a vibrator, but a green plastic handle with two rotatable, mildly magnetized balls-with-spikes mounted on the side of one end. It was in office supplies; I take it its purpose is to pick up dropped pins and paperclips and the like.
Got some good bread & came home, realizing how much less I enjoy Saturday putzing about when it's on my own. Watched Pirates of the Carribean---or is it Caribbean---I always have to look it up, and right now I'm not going to, goddammit, even if it is just a matter of another window & a few keystrokes. I strike out in rebellion, not giving a crap HOW it's spelled! Isn't that the purpose of a weekend, for a copy editor?? Mother-fuck! Egads and gadzooks! Up the Irish!, as they gave as an example of an interjection in the rules to MadLibs, setting me to head-scratching an itch of puzzlement about the expression that was years in subsiding.
What now; what now?
There are dishes I could do and plenty of strewn items I could pick up around the house, but. I know there's a point to that sort of thing, yet I can't pull it up. Nope. It's a lack of faith thing about tending to my personal environs. It's an understanding of the what-then that follows. Lord help me, cuz I sure ain't helpin' myself with that one.
If I sit at the computer any longer I'll either resort to doing the freelance thing I sat down here to get at, or chain-play a neurotic string of yahoo! dominoes matches against voiceless strangers.
(The smart money's on the latter.)