Mouse Water

My experiments in The Putridity Of Mice In Room Temperature Rain Water are over. Can't believe I lost five gallons of rain water to one damned mouse, then, of course, I put the lid on and forgot. Fuck me in the shower, does that sucker stink. This was yesterday. Put it outside then the next time I needed to pee, threw it in the bushes, throwing away both the baby and the bathwater, then bleached the bucket, then took the bucket with me to work, where the kitchen sink has a goose-neck faucet and hot running water. Dish soap and hot running water, wow. I don't need water at home, I have enough, my archaic system, I keep about fifty gallons, ten of that is drinking water AND, I realize, I haven't carried wash water in over a year, the rain so perfectly spaced, but I don't want to carry the bucket back empty (it's a pickle bucket, with a gasketed lid, the best for carrying water) so I fill it up at the museum. Chopping wood, carrying water. Dense fog this morning, so dense in lower pockets that I had to slow to 20 mph to not outdrive my breaks, lovely muffle. I went below the flloodwall and it was magic, everything dampened. Exhausting and wonderful day. Clean up from the auction, then, after lunch, uncrating the Turned Wood show for upstairs. The pieces are amazing, I don't know how some of them were turned, so complex, I can't figure it out. Maybe we'll post them on the website, beautiful objects. Farmer's Market today and I picked through Uncle Ronnie's tomatoes, getting one for tonight, one for tomorrow, etc. and he charged me 50 cents. I think it was a token. Tonight I'm having toasted open-faced tomato sandwiches, two with cheese, one without, and a side of seedless cucumbers in balsamic, so far I've thrown two pair of pants into the laundry basket, the balsamic stains are particularly interesting, kind of batik. The Deputy worked behind closed doors for much of the afternoon, when I finally wormed my way inside, it smelled like a rose hot-house, white and powdery, realized I like a kind of musky thing in the summer (actually, I like musky all the time) and the more floral things, like Tommy Girl, in winter, when it fills a gap. In summer and fall there are infinite sweet smells. I couldn't defend this, it's a preference, nothing more. So much is. Two crows going to work and four crows going home, I wonder if I'm entering an even phase. I wonder what the difference is. On the way home I stop to see B, Lily told me he'd cut through the wall of the house to connect the addition with French Doors and I wanted to see. Yes he had, but the doors were slightly off and we talked about solutions. It's weird and indicative that new things needed to be altered to work AT ALL. -Excuse me mam, but if I was to weld a step about there it might me easier for you to enter your vehicle.- I'm sure B and I see this Wrack Show closely the same, not exactly the same, but close. Interesting, that in talking about aspects of it, I realize just our language is different, not what we mean. We all say things differently. What we think we mean. I think a lot about what is heard, how different it might be from what was meant. After this weekend, a blow from outer space, everything is under the scope. There was this dude at Janitor School, Chet, he was an absolute realist. He didn't make the cut, but he was cool. Not many made the cut.You would have thought he would have made it, articulate in several languages, hands like a pianist, not blunt stubs like the rest of us, plumber fingers, much mangled by time, not that I care about that, the way my fingers look, there really are more important things, what you see, what you believe, and, you know, you can get swept up in the moment, and not see or remember anything else. I'm sure there's a German word. Count on the Germans for extreme specificity. Brennslauss. God, I hope I got that right, correct, I only collect German, I don't speak it. That top of the trajectory where everything is determined, you know what I mean, I empower you as you enable me. Three blonds go into a bar.