Aflooftypmatic (floofinition) – Someone who shows no signs of having contact with animals.
In use: “Many people without pets are aflooftypmatic, showing up at work without fur (some call it hair) on their clothing, remaining quiet as others share floofnecdotes.”
First dream: my wife and I are walking through a store. We come across a man. Bald. Sitting. Glasses. Middle-aged. White. Wearing a blue store vest. In front of him is a conveyor belt.
We stop in puzzlement. What’s this? Oh, it’s the bottle recycling site. As we realize it — talking aloud between ourselves — the man confirms that this is what we’ve stumbled across.
“I don’t have any bottles to recycle right now,” he says. “It’s really slow. Go get your bottles.”
My wife and I discuss. Should we get our bottles? The dream ends.
It’s a reflection of life and first world problems. The bottle recycling landscape has changed. We’ve gone five times to recycle our bottles over the past several months. The lines are longer each time. We arrived just after it opened one time, thinking, hey, we’ll beat the crowd. There wasn’t even parking space. Our bottles — these are the ones for which we paid a deposit — are piling up. People go around collecting them. I say, put them out for them, hon. Hon says, no. She’s tight-fisted; she paid for those bottles. The bottle battle goes on.
I’d finished a manuscript and was looking for a place to type so I could begin the next one. Some unknown person read the ms and said, “This is brilliant.” They asked questions to confirm I was the author.
I answered all of that. Then I said, “I have a million of them,” and continued searching for a place to work. I didn’t have a laptop. People offered me places where there were computers. I tried three different locations. I would start typing but encountered vexing interruptions at each one.
The three people who’d offered me writing sanctuary met with me at an intersection on a flight of stairs. They pressed me to use the facilities they’d offered. I turned them down. I had my laptop now. I said, “I have to go off and do this on my own. But thanks for the offers.”
Then I went off to write.
They called it smoky Monday but Tuesday was just as bad. Lord, and Wednesday’s worse. Don’t know what it will be like Thursday but I don’t like the trend.
Today is Smoky Wednesday, August 4, 2021. The smoke continues to thicken from fires south of us in California in the Klamath National Forest. It’s miles away. The city and county keep putting out messages and alerts that evacuation in our area isn’t needed, the fires aren’t threatening us, but BTW, avoid breathing the air if you can. Limit it at least.
A ghostly pale sunrise was at 6:07 AM. The sun is a muted, cloistered presence. Sunset will come at 8:27 PM. The smoke keeps us a little cooler for most of the day with temperatures striding into the low nineties, but it’s a flat, still air. No wind at all. Stifling. Cool nights with temperatures falling to the low sixties are being experienced. But the smoke keeps us inside. I’ve learned that we must keep the western windows and doors closed, or the smoke comes in. Then we start sniffing, coughing, and sneezing as our throats grow dry and scratchy.
With all that, songs with smoke in them came to mind (you can already hear “Smoke on the Water”, can’t you) but no. I saw this video yesterday while stalking the net (or it was stalking me — such a relationship, you know?). It put a smile on my face and stuck with me. Not surprising, really. Music often sticks like peanut butter in my brain.
Here is Dave Grohl performing “Band on the Run” in front of Sir Paul McCartney and President Barack Obama and many other dignitaries in the White House in 2010. Hope you smile as I did.
Be safe. Stay positive. Test negative. Wear a mask as needed. Get the vax. On a mask aside, we went shopping in Medford, twenty miles away yesterday. We were masked, along with about ninety-five of the rest of the people in the stores.