I did make a wee little change. Tom had it printed in sepia. I think t looks slightly better in black and white...
Anyway, after lots of strum und drang yesterday, I managed to get a Christmas tree. I'd come to the end of the paycheck until next Thursday, and there really just wasn't anything left. Last year, I noted that the Rotary and other Christmas Tree purveyors were sold out almost a full week before the holiday itself. So, after enlisting a friend with a car, I managed to get the Rotary guy to agree on a postdated check, and purchased a scrawny but full (from one angle) tree. I'd been sniffling and occasionally sneezing all day yesterday at work. Friggin people who sneeze on you.... The inside of one nostril felt swollen like it had a a blood vessel had burst. But it wasn't too bad. Until this morning.
|Arrrghhhh! There''s only one string of lights left... Gggrrrrr.|
I've been sneezing like a fairy tale dwarf all day. I am, of course, paranoid that I have now developed an allergy to Christmas trees and will have to put this one down. Or maybe they've sprayed some preservative on the tree so it will last longer or smell nicer that's the culprit. I do hope that's not the case. It was just one such sudden onset of swelling, watery eyes, and sneezing by my stepmother that was responsible for the premature destruction of one tree some years back when my father was still alive. The following year or two there was a mid sized artificial tree. When Dad started the six year slide into the finalities of prostrate cancer, she was too distraught to think about Christmas. I can't remember if she got a tree that first year or not. The next few years saw a minimally decorated 3 foot artificial tree. I would go "home" for the holidays, enter what had been my bedroom and find the tree, decorations, lights, and all, sitting on my bed. She'd pick it up, carry it back to the living room, find a spot for it, plug it in, and the deed was done. Quick, efficient. Not my style, but I like it.
In an small studio apartment this size, there is little room for anything. Need the stapler? Move this there, that there, and viola! One stapler plus instant mess. This past summer I began rebelling against the spartan minimalism in which I've lived the past few years. As I closed the paid for storage place, I added a guest chair (the other one I had replaced my rocker office chair which, sadly, is no more), and my old art deco side table - the one with the etched blue glass, into the "living" room. I can not get everything I need to into the small storage space my apartment gets in this building's basement. The result has been stuff everywhere, especially as I've been trying to get the pre bleak winter deep cleaning and dust dinosaur eradication done. I'm putting the old dust catchers back into play, and it is making me feel better. There is absolutely no reason I should have or need to have an hour glass, well, more like a half hour glass, but it does reflect something about myself and I like having it out. Ditto the picture (really a xerox blow up of a polaroid) of my Dad from a Christmas long ago (c 1954).
Every step backward is met with an oops! Every reach to get something results in something else being knocked over. Every step into the kitchen or bathroom means moving the pumpkin which still hasn't been cut up for pie. (It sits in a corrugated cardboard box so I don't kick it to death - and I do end up kicking the box a lot). There is no place to put anything. There is no room for, well. there is no room. I've spent most of my life living in studio apartments. I'm sick of it. Having the space to have your stuff where you can get it without moving things around like a chinese puzzle box has become a luxury. I'm not poor enough to get anything better. As I get up to get a tissue to blow my nose, I trip on my cane. If it's Christmas can anyone hear me scream?
Well, I'm going off to make some shells and veggies for dinner. Then I'll move enough stuff to get into the built out closet where I put the spare Christmas tree light bulbs so I can replace the ones that didn't make it through to this year.
But before I go, here's a couple of scans I did this afternoon to test the replacement program. These are protective sleeves in which single 45rpm records were sold. And yes, I still have the records.