March 8th, 2013

what if

The plumber has gone to the store.

I could be out back trying to bust up the big branches I still haven't gotten to from the big storm--- the city's coming to collect tree branches we put out by the street, in a strange little miracle people seemed to know about but I merely gleaned. The city does that? What? Hunh, the city does that. I got a honker offa the ancient apple tree I'm gonna need to chainsaw, though.

But if I'm back there I won't know when John comes back. He may be a while, he said, needing to get some strange valves for my strange valve needs. But when he is done with all his t'-do, I won't likely get another $300 water bill.

I do have two books to read, and they have some deadlines associated with them, so that's why that's better than folding the laundry.

Meditation class last night was good. In my antique stirrup pants. We chanted. I liked the chanting, and think I will like it more when it is less new-weird to me.

"There isn't any way to not have a reaction, it's too loaded," said the one who has no magic keys, and then I spun off to imagine the lesbian heroine The Magic Locksmith, who would star in a series of novels, if I would write them, or someone else would, in a kind of cross between fantasy and tongue-in-cheek romance, possibly with elements of magic realism, and I hope with scenes of therapy, cuz I like therapy sessions in fiction.

I mean, locksmithery: very sexy.