Day Two

Got the kitchen squared away. You know those warmer pans that use Sterno for heat. Nice units, but they have a lot of curled edges. Baked-on barbeque sauce is a tough one. Some of the crevices, I think, had never been properly cleaned, so I spent a lot of time on them. Relatively difficult, like stripping paint. Bathrooms tomorrow, and empty the kitchen of trash, cases of empties, we'll be ship-shape. Always the goal. Speaking of which, we saw a great soccer goal, D and I, eating lunch at the bar in the pub. They were tuned to European Sports, the top soccer league; the Celtics clearly the better team, but Hamilton had a strong defense close to the net; Celtics controlling the ball 75% of the time, and still tied 1-1 in the 85th minute. Exciting stuff, these guys were good. One of the Celtics breaks toward the goal, passes off to a following player, keeps driving, gets the ball back and fires between two defenders who are blocking the goalie's view. We cheered, though the Celtics uniform color-choices were bloody awful. Must be state colors, yellow and green, no matter, these dudes could run and pass. There was a grace to the score, hard to describe, these guys running flat-out come up with a plan, thinking on their feet, so elegant you want to cry or sigh or punch a buddy. After lunch I dealt with glass platters. I do this carefully, it takes a while: nothing broken. Triplets plague me. "Seven tigers / nothing unusual / never mind." Harvey killed himself too soon, we hadn't gotten to the good part, where you no longer gave a shit, and did whatever you wanted. On the Show Front, people wandered in, looked around, said things. I was busy cleaning up, after the party, didn't have time for post-partum blues. Three clauses, a pattern, we don't need to talk about that, you know? What is, is. Spots on glass are hard to chase away, what you meant might not be important, where are you going with that thought? It's easy to stack words, but what does it mean?If I have a post-partum it certainly concerns meaning. I don't think I do, but if I did, I'd probably tie things together, you know, lash. For the third night in a row I make chili, for the Deputy, to freeze against the winter. $6.57 cents, what I spend on a vat of this, given that the two pounds of pulled pork is a given, a cheap stew, whatever it is, a chili-like substance, enough calories to get you through the day. I take buttered bread and crackers on the side, I've been known to storm into the kitchen, threaten someone with their life, if they couldn't figure out what I meant. Hey, I thought I was being clear. I hadn't realized. You know, the confusion. What you thought I meant.