The confederate jasmine are blooming, and the heat has finally arrived. Before it gets hot, the flowers give off a happy aroma that wafts on the breeze, but once it gets hot, the fragrance becomes overpowering. It’s a beautiful flower, and the smell is generally enjoyable, but too much of a good thing can be noxious. There are definitely streets I don’t want to jog down when the jasmine is in full effect. It’s one of the only flowers that I can think of where the fragrance seems to literally take up space, and rounding a corner with a particularly robust patch of jasmine can make you feel like you ran into a brick wall.
I love my neighborhood, there is always something random happening. Last week, a woman was walking down the street yelling about how we were all eternally damned and would be punished and how everything would burn. I was getting out of my car when she walked by, and she stopped her prophetic rant to calmly tell me that my car lights were still on. I told her that they would cut off, but that I appreciated it. She said no problem, and then launched right back into her rant.
A couple days after that, I saw a guy riding his skateboard down the street with a little fluffy dog on a leash trailing beside him. Ten minutes later, he rode back by, still on the skateboard, carrying the fluffiness in his arms.
There is a giant German shepherd that lives next door, who we will call Harry. Harry acts like he is going to eat me and Briscoe alive every time we walk past his gate. One morning recently, Harry gave us the usual aggressive greeting through the fence as we walked by. I live on one corner of an extraordinary long block, and when we were almost at the other corner, I turned to see Harry barreling down the sidewalk towards us. I had about five seconds for my life to flash before my eyes, and I called Harry by his name and told him to stop. Harry skidded to a stop, and then trotted into the street, with no regard to the cars. I tied Briscoe to a fence and chased Harry into another yard, finally catching him and dragging him by his collar back to his house. The gate at his house was totally intact, and I have no idea how that damned dog got out, but he was definitely looking for us. Good to know he is all bark.
Briscoe got her hair did on Monday. I should have gotten her cut last week, I hate for her to be so hot. She looked so fuzzy Monday morning, like a little bear, and when I picked her up she looked like a lamb.
I have a follow up ankle appointment tomorrow. It’s been six months since my surgery, and I’m curious to see how my range of motion compared to what it was before, and to find out if the current state of my ankle is normal. I’m definitely able to do a lot of stuff that a year ago I was afraid I would never do again. Like I ran 2.5 miles yesterday with no real problems.
But when I ran last Tuesday, my foot felt heavy, almost like my shin and ankle muscles had forgotten how to work, and it was generally bizarre feeling and not comfortable. But I still ran 2.25 miles, and it didn’t hurt later. And a two hour tennis match hurts, and makes me nervous that I am being reckless. I’m hoping this is all part of the process and that every month it will get stronger, but I’m looking forward to some professional clarification on the subject.
Have I ever told y’all how much I dislike cleaning my house? I don’t mind laundry, but most all other housework is tough for me. Part of it is that I have an incredibly difficult time staying on task, and another part is that I get fixated and will spend three hours cleaning one room of my house. I have friends staying at my apartment for a bachelorette this weekend, and I needed to do a ton of housework last night. I was totally dreaded it.
I have had housekeepers, but I’ve struggled finding one I liked. The last one showed up at my house for her appointment scheduled a week in advance, only to refuse to clean my house because I couldn’t give her a residential parking pass and she refused to park in the lot a block away, or move her car after an hour (anyone can park on my street for an hour). And I was going to pay her what felt like a huge wad of money to me. I have had friends offer to clean my house, but it feels weird to pay a friend to clean your house. My apartment is not that big, I’m a fully functional adult (most days), I can clean my own house.
Yesterday, I steeled my nerve, put on a spotify viral playlist, and cracked a beer. (I feel like beer is necessary for housework, especially after a day of real work). Betwixt the music on this playlist was a Jim gaffigan skit, and I realized I should be listening to comedy. So for the next four hours (cause I can’t stop once I start), I cleaned my house while drinking beer and listening to Louis CK and Aziz Ansari. I recommend this cleaning approach to all the sad housecleaners in the world, it makes for a much more enjoyable experience.
the thin line between optimism and delusion... 