Clean Laundry

Every article of clothing clean and stashed away. Well supplied. I went in to work for a few hours, hanging artwork. D set the 3-D pieces on the newly painted pedestals, then lit the show. When it was clear that we could easily finish up on Tuesday, I picked up a few things at the store and headed home. The non fruit-bearing Oriental Pear trees in town , and the red maples at lower elevations in the forest, are breaking bud. The daffodils are blooming everywhere, defining where houses used to be. Usually next door to where a trailer is now. The history of Appalachia. B came over, we exchanged books, had a short drink, and he wanted to tell me he was reading at the forest service lodge, a lovely venue, about life on the ridge, tomorrow, and did I want to go. I refuse his offer of a ride because I need to be able to get home whenever I want to, so I'll need my own vehicle, but I do want to go. I don't get out enough, I'm locked into this pattern, where I turn off the phone and kill the breaker for the refrigerator, because I just want things to be as quiet as possible. I want to hear the squawking of a crow, the tentative footfalls of a deer in the leaf mast. Listening closely. A quantitative difference. Usually, in the literal world, where you live, there's a lot of sound, but if you're prepared to sit quietly on a stump in the middle of the woods for hours at a time, you begin to hear a different music. I have a new keyboard, by the way, and I can actually see what I'm doing. Hunt and peck. I do this with two fingers, any more, I think, would be an affront. It's the keys, brother, the very next note. Where were we? Right, gathering dust-bunnies. I can't believe myself sometimes. I appear to be operating in the real world, but it's a joke. I'm not, really. I mean, I do my laundry, and this woman comes up to me. The actual world is a trip. And wonders if I want to party, I think I understand what she means, and tell her no, I'm just waiting for a friend. A bend in the path. My first plan is to drive the Jeep to B's reading at the lodge, but then I think I might as well ride with him, because several people were stopping at Drew's for a drink. The reading was great, the specificity of place. If you knew this drainage at all, you knew how precise the descriptions were. Stopping at Drew's was surprisingly fun: conversation, drinks, and I didn't have to drive. His study takes up half of a two car garage, separate building, cement block, but he has a large space sectioned off by bookcases (a strategy I've used many times), heated with a nice wood stove. A comfortable place. We spend a couple of hours talking about a broad range of subjects. There are other liberals in the world. I have to go.