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Days off, House Se03,
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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Finished watching Season 3 of House.
What's next? Season 4 is already downloaded, entertainment for my flight to Toronto.
This week, Wednesday, day trip to Creston - and I've fallen on Kootenay Time, because I was thinking we'd hit the thrift shops, only they're not open on Wednesday, it's a Tuesday-Thursday-Saturday sort of town. So time wasted, hit the antique shop, grab lunch, then home.
Thursday, a few errands, books, lunch, ice cream, the town is largely now in the hands of the locals, no lines anywhere.
This is nice.
Yesterday, volunteer at the thrift shop, find a few books of interest - which I'll get to later I'm sure (odd, I'd thought of them, didn't have the title but in the vein of "1st Person Exploration" - Canada's version of "Lewis & Clark". On the way to work (crossing the alley) and there's a big screech-ka-bang, a car has driven at full tilt off the highway into a B&B across from the restaurant. Not just full tilt, easily 30 or 40 KM above the speed limit.
According to a truck that had followed her she was driving erratically all the way from Castlegar. She arrived with a bang, caught air on the off-ramp, apparently got out of the vehicle cussing up a storm, an older woman, "80's or 90's" from bystanders descriptions. I hope they made her blow, there's no excuse for this, it's beyond incompetent or accident, I'm getting clearly heavily impaired.
That's the excitement for the night, restaurant is dead.
After work, upstairs neighbour walks me down to get my ration. I meet Stony, the Mother-in-Law's brother, he's sitting with his dog and another homeless local on the curb at the shoe store, he's a bag of "gems" beside him, I've heard of his gems, sapphires, rubies, etc.
And he's showing them to me, he's found them everywhere, in alleys behind Stepping Stones and Ankors, and I'm rifling the bag, the mother in law has told me about this...
Of course there are no gems. Merely rocks and some broken bits of coloured glass.
I excuse myself, the upstairs neighbour, meanwhile, has gotten him into a rage by implying he's not looking after his dog, she goes and gets it some water...he'd sooner see her die than let his dog go without water, she's a knack for pissing people off.
She's a fucking nightmare.
Her boyfriend, out of town, she's worried he's angry, has left for good, and really, who'd blame him?
Today, the early and brief shift, no great plans, only to read my books - a great many started and in need of completion, but some interesting topics...
King Solomon's Ring - Konrad Lorenz
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And something completely different, Konrad Lorenz's study on ethology, in which he breaks down the different societal norms of various species of fish, birds and smaller mammals, all the way up to dogs, wolves and lions, challenging a lot of the myths and preconceptions we might have about these animals.
Good, highly readable and told from a personable POV, it should be required reading (light, not too long or tough) for anyone considering Psychology. We are, in many ways, not so different (and rarely as noble) as the animals we perpetrate to have evolved from.
You can read up on him here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Konrad_Lorenz
The Diary of a Nobody - George and Weedon Grossmith
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The Grand Tour of every-day Victorian Life, from the POV of a town clerk, his domicile, domestic bliss and circumstance and his complete and utter lack of self-awareness that characterize the middle class. It's humour lies in recognizing these foibles in everyone but ourselves.
Definitely of an era, but not entirely to my taste, and I found myself relieved to find the last few pages of this fallen out, there was no need to read this through to any sort of conclusion.
The Pall of Days
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September 3rd, 38 degrees Celsius. Unbearable.
And the forecast for the rest of the week was more of the same.
I'm thinking "End of the Summer" and work will get back to normal, a little more manageable, but - well, I'd forgotten a few things, like the Queen City Car Show and Shine, hundreds of vintage automobiles, Cadillacs, E-type Jags, Model T's, Hot Rods, a hobby for retired men, keeps them out of the way of their wives in the garage. Like my watches it's for love and not money, there's no way any of them will see a return on their love and investment, it's a passion.
September 4th, smoke from the Ymir wildfire fills the valley. Thick, so thick that my eyes smart and water, my throat chafes, and I've spent a lifetime preparing for a world on fire with my cigarettes, only this is a bit much. The good side is that summer has left the building, daily highs are reduced to around 25 degrees and in the evening temperatures drop below the low teens. Wintry nights followed by prematurely autumn days.
Sunday the auto show is over, instead the town is treated to the “mufflers are gay” motorcycle posse….fortunately it's just a quick ride through, they just wanted to wake everyone up.
Work, the vestiges of summer clutching at my shirt like Glenn Close rising up from the tub in “Fatal Attraction” - Friday, dead, other server leaves, I’m surprised with 3 walk-ins, 2 five tops and a party of four, no sooner than she’s out the door, always the way it is. And Saturday I go in to discover the day server has been hammered, place is a mess, takes an hour to restore it - and yet in the evening it doesn't happen. I've anxiety from the summer, the past few weeks, well, they've been brutal and without respite, and with every hotel full you have to be prepared, look what I just walked in to, only it doesn't happen, and maybe, just maybe we're back to normal.
The town, the air of Mordor, Mt. Doom, smoky, usually this would have happened a month, 6 weeks ago, so we had a pretty good run.
And the early fall sees me abandoned by my crows, there are plenteous falling and crushed hazelnuts and acorns on the street, no need of my peanuts, so after a few days I resign myself to my solitude, only they're back, waiting for me to show up without nuts so they can chide and chastise me, I go back upstairs, get some more nuts and we get the game on...
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