Took Brutus out on the town last night. We went through narrow streets, across narrower bridges with no divider between oncoming traffic and a 1.5 ft curb at night in the rain. I did 7 point turns, parallel parked twice, and crossed the city of Portland to get to St. Johns from Oregon City. Whadda trip!
This took hours. And a whole lot of my verve. I ended up at Lloyd Center Ice Rink whirling around the ice and trying to take slo-motion video and time-lapse with my phone. I listened to my headphones and tried to ignore the forming blisters and muscles still tired from rollerskating a few days before. Every swing around brings in all of the scents of a mall. Fresh plastics, Victoria Secret's perfume, caramel popcorn, and all manner of newly manufactured goods.
Today was a plumbing problem that was fixed with a shark bite. It's clean up time and there might be 5 gallons of water in the carpet and wall. The glaring truth of this situation is that I am not restoring a vintage trailer to later sell for a profit. It's my tiny home with a tiny rent and tiny ecological footprint with a one-of-a-kind view of a pig pen. For now. I'm banking on a coat of primer to make me feel like a lot is happening and to distract me from the rotted out wood panels that should probably be replaced. I could always go more rustic with the decor...
Got a strange bursts of blasts from the past lately. Like 24 hours lately. The two people I went to the other side of the planet to forget about. Good conversation. Growth has happened on all our parts and so has a lot of time. It's still tricky at times when the emotions and thoughts slip into storylines about the other. A past that only happened that special way to you, a future vision that is distorted and dramatic. But that's all just me anyway. The other person could be flossing and I'm so distracted by my story I don't notice that at all.