Just 307

I didn’t forget to write.  I chose not to write since the morning got away from me while I polishing fingernails.

Only later did I forget to write today.

And now, while I’ve obviously remembered, it’s also rather late for more.

Day 307

Interrupting Mrs. Xenoworth

I have not visited Mr. Johnathan Goffe is quite some time.  I’d like to see what he’s up to this morning.  Last I recall he was headed to some part of town to get some film for his camera.

Grandma followed a different magic than my sister.  Grandma’s enchantments harnessed a deeper power, but they were fickle and often [unspecific].  Jennetta may stalk the hereditary manse[?] presiding over friend and foe alike while Nonni putters in the Old-old Conservatory, but give me the least of Nonni’s spells over the best of Netti’s—I’ll be happy.  I left the leaves in their packet and returned to the lane under my own direction.

:?camera requires film,: I ask the camera.

:.camera requires film,: it replies.

:?list film shops, sort by proximity, with directions relative to the Book Gate:

:.danforth Road Photography (0.26 miles, 11.5°)
:,[something that sounds like a mini-mall] (0.84 miles, 85.5°)
:,bonar Balfour: Haberdasher & Milliner (2.67 miles, 127.3°):

:?haberdasher: I’m trying to imagine a shop that sells clothing, woman’s hats, and photography supplies. As well as decide if I want to go that far out of my way.

:.public inventory all known stock sizes and custom cutting services:

:?stocking men’s hats also: I could really use a new hat.

:.affirmative:

:.map it; call in the quickest order to fill; shut-down:

I stop listening before the camera acknowledges my requests. I need to think.

Bonar Balfour’s resides in a narrow alleyway off Bent Street.  Bent is already a subsidiary outlet of the main circle of shops in Surland Wood, so Balfour’s nicely secluded and separate.  Mr. Goffe is glad to have come the extra distance.  Even before he swings the wood and crystal paned door inward he’s thinking this is his new camera shop—providing they actually have what he needs.  The pleasant trinkle of the bell as the  door glides open on well oiled brass hinges and the top edge strikes the clapper confirms his tentative decision.

“Excuse me a moment please Mrs. Xenoworth.  I need to greet the gentleman.”  A younger tinker smiles brightly as further apology for the conflicting requirements of politeness.  Mrs. Xenoworth pats him on the shoulder pushing him in the direction of the door.

“Go.  I’ll be here deciding a bit yet anyway.”  The boy thanks her in a whisper then departs.

“Good afternoon, sir.  I am Ben Balfour.  My father is still preparing your order and will be out front shortly.  Can I offer you a cup of tea while you wait mister…?”  Ben waits for me to fill in my name.  My camera certainly relayed that information when placing the order and it’s unlikely anyone in this town does not know me by appearance.  It’s polite to pretend.  I ignore him as is also polite, instead addressing the older woman.

“Madam, my apologies for the intrusion on your shopping.  I won’t keep Ben long.”  I clasp my hands and make a short bow.

:,arrange for her purchases today: I command Camera.  My predilection for going among the people like a commoner often result in these sorts of disruptions.  Camera runs a routine that negotiates with the shop’s system to pay for Mrs. Xenoworth’s good.  I’m guessing Balfour’s will smooth over that audacity of my presumption by making the offer to her themselves without my appearing to be involved at all.  This will likely result in my order for film being gratis.  Blah blah blah.

Day 306

A Title So Dull Even Reverse Psychology Won’t Get You to Read On

I’d hoped to be back writing short pieces of truncated scenes this morning as I normally do, but I’ve gotten a late start due to an early start.Maybe some sort of weekend recapitulation is in order.

Our house is clean this morning.  Last week while cleaning resilient wads of red hair from the rollers of our vacuum I determined I was wasting time.  The thing was well and truly busted.  I didn’t want to fix it; I’m not Bedouin or a junk man.  Carrie quickly priced a couple options for a Dyson and we were off to buy the cheaper of the two since the pet hair one exceeded our gut cost-to-performance expectations.  Once home I jerked it out of the box and fired it up.

A trip around the living room filled the canister.  A second trip around the same carpet nearly filled the canister again.  The vacuum performs under expectations or the carpeting exceeds them.  I’m going with a win for the carpet.  We’ve found a comfortable combination of ambivalence and willful ignorance a quick route to a clean house.

So we Dysoned it up.  Moved all the furniture to the periphery.  And rolled out the Bissel home steam cleaner.  I use the word steam loosely—I don’t think they use it at all—because I don’t think it would make as much sense to call in a wet-vac.  This lonely tool bewilders and impresses me every time I use it.  An unintuitive combination of dials and triggers coupled with a long-ago skim of the instructions means I start each session by figuring it one more time.  In the end it’s simpler than I recall.  Then the cleaner sucks up all the pet stains—that’s marketese for shit, puke, and pee—and kid stains—not exactly the same but close.

The other pleasure is it’s facility.  I come away thinking we should do this once a month.  Why don’t we?  Why haven’t we?

Sink’s clean.  Kitchen counters clear.  Garage 10% better than the weekend before.

Hopefully these conditions maintain throughout the week till our 10th Annual Pumpkin Carving Party on Saturday.

Day 305