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rejectomorphAll the grey morning I slept, except when the phone bleeped and woke me up. It was chilly outside the covers, so I rolled over and went back to sleep. two hours later I got up and saw the text saying my package had been delivered. I opened the front door and there were two grey plastic packages, glistening with water. It was my entire order from Penney's, not three entire days after I'd ordered it. I was quite impressed. Later, a Text from Kohl's informed me that part of the order I'd placed four days ago had been shipped and was in a sorting center in Fort Lauderdale. I could have it by Tuesday. Maybe. Well.
Anyway, I probably got nearly enough sleep, and then I got fed, and even had some PIE, and so I'd have to say it was a good day, but more recently things have been less than stellar. I mean tonight. About two o'clock this morning my carbon monoxide alarm started making aloud chirp every thirty seconds or so. The Internet informs me that it is either in need of new batteries, or it is at electronic death's door. I have no new batteries for it, and I wouldn't know how to change them anyway, as I can't get the damned thing to open.
If it needs replacing I'll have to call the landlord's manager, but if it's just the battery I think my nephew could pick one up and change it for me, but I can't call him until morning, by which time I hope to be asleep, though getting to sleep with that intermittent screech piercing my ears. Sheesh. I hate technology. If I could get the device open I'd just take out the low battery so it would have nothing to chirp with. And if this turns out to be the day the furnace floods the apartment with carbon monoxide, well, my tough luck. At least I'll die in my sleep in my cozy bed.
Anyway, I'm going to try to at least get a nap. I've been up since shortly after noon, which is too damned long. Blasted machines are out to get me, and I'm sure they are in league with time. Clocks are entropy agents, you know.
Sunday Verse
by Heather McHugh
When Americans say a man
takes liberties, they mean
he's gone too far. In Philadelphia today I saw
a kid on a leash look mom-ward
and announce his fondest wish: one
bicentennial burger, hold
the relish. Hold is forget,
in American.
On the courts of Philadelphia
the rich prepare
to serve, to fault. The language is a game as well,
in which love can mean nothing,
doubletalk mean lie. I'm saying
doubletalk with me. I'm saying
go so far the customs are untold.
Make nothing without words,
and let me be
the one you never hold.
Anyway, I probably got nearly enough sleep, and then I got fed, and even had some PIE, and so I'd have to say it was a good day, but more recently things have been less than stellar. I mean tonight. About two o'clock this morning my carbon monoxide alarm started making aloud chirp every thirty seconds or so. The Internet informs me that it is either in need of new batteries, or it is at electronic death's door. I have no new batteries for it, and I wouldn't know how to change them anyway, as I can't get the damned thing to open.
If it needs replacing I'll have to call the landlord's manager, but if it's just the battery I think my nephew could pick one up and change it for me, but I can't call him until morning, by which time I hope to be asleep, though getting to sleep with that intermittent screech piercing my ears. Sheesh. I hate technology. If I could get the device open I'd just take out the low battery so it would have nothing to chirp with. And if this turns out to be the day the furnace floods the apartment with carbon monoxide, well, my tough luck. At least I'll die in my sleep in my cozy bed.
Anyway, I'm going to try to at least get a nap. I've been up since shortly after noon, which is too damned long. Blasted machines are out to get me, and I'm sure they are in league with time. Clocks are entropy agents, you know.
Sunday Verse
Language Lesson, 1976
by Heather McHugh
When Americans say a man
takes liberties, they mean
he's gone too far. In Philadelphia today I saw
a kid on a leash look mom-ward
and announce his fondest wish: one
bicentennial burger, hold
the relish. Hold is forget,
in American.
On the courts of Philadelphia
the rich prepare
to serve, to fault. The language is a game as well,
in which love can mean nothing,
doubletalk mean lie. I'm saying
doubletalk with me. I'm saying
go so far the customs are untold.
Make nothing without words,
and let me be
the one you never hold.
