Yes, sigh, kindofasucky week. I am in the middle of donning my 1-2x/yr Stressy AllergyCold/Sinus Infection, which proceeds in such a speedy fashion that I have problems explaining it in a belevable way to others. I'm literally in stage 3 after about 8 hours (congestion and drip, after runny nose and sore throat). I am living in a fountain of flying kleenex like a hamster. I knew it was coming, unfortunately, for a few days in its low-simmering pre-game state--no Emergen-C stemmed the tide. I've learned not to fuck around with this illness, whatever it is, because it has a bad habit of turning into bronchitis at the same frightening speed as the rest of the process and at that point there's just no way I can not talk about the astonishing, claustrophic quality of the phlegm I experience, and who needs to hear that. Needless to say, this illness has arrived at the worst possible moment, days before my first vacation in months if not years, when I have tons of stuff to do to get ready, and no ability to take time off from work as needed. I'm lookin at my face in the mirror and I think I literally have no melanin. It's just gray. Yes, sigh.
Okay, so it was a nassy week and to top it all off the Esquire Theater is closing. It was multiplexed a decade ago and has not been taking care of very well in recent years, but it also has one of the most beautiful Art Moderne facades in the world and I worry for its existence. It's *daring*. It has very strong architectural gestures--grand expanses and smaller bits--the kind of space-wasting nobody has time for on a street full of primo real estate like Oak St. (Real estate...what fucking bubble? The value of real estate seems to be driving so many horrid business decisions these days. Would the Berghoff have closed if not for that? Even a constantly-packed restaurant doesn't pay off in comparison.) This city talks a good talk about architectural heritage, but in reality nothing's changed since the days of the Fire. Slash and burn, slash and burn.
So I am going to try to note some good things.
1) I got some nice little opera swag at work, a few things I actually wanted. That was lovely and hadn't happened before, I don't think.
2) There was a prize-winning Pomeranian on TV tonight that thrilled me to the gills and made me squeal. I think his name was Tyler. It's the way they WALK. Furry nubs twinkling as they float along and the goofy look on their face. I often think I might get one if my life becomes dog friendly and I have a yard. I was not built to pick dog poop off the concrete three times a day. God bless those who do, but hain't for me. I'm still dreaming of the perfect hands-free affordable self-cleaning cat litter box, as it is I feel like their litter bitch most of the time. I wonder: do you have to spend 20 hours a day brushing your Pomeranian to get them to look like that?
3) I have finally achieved something I need in the area of Laundry. It took money, of course. I've tried a bizillion carts and carriers over the years that don't work, fell apart, were hard to maneuver, you name it, but I finally bit the bullet and bought an industrial strength, jumbo-size laundry cart from an industrial laundry supply co. The kind of cart laundromats have, only even bigger and sturdier. It arrived in reassuringly heavy boxes, has huge solid wheels, is big and well-made enough to resist Cat encroachment, and didn't take that long to put together. Although that part was satisfying. I LOVE my Ryobi cordless drill. It just is so well-made and handy--I love doing stuff with it. The cart is damn BIG. It even has the ugly but useful rubber protector around the top. This is great. Now I can fling my laundry therein and fling it back in once it's done and not have to do any silly packing and hoisting to make things fit or worry about what's wet.
Since I started writing this I have literally progressed a stage with my sinus infection--more congestion, no sense of smell. I am going to embrace pharmacology without my usual trepidation and hope it saves me.
(p.s. Is the world ready for the Rachael Ray show? The Megan Mullally show? Must they alliterate?)
(p.s.s. Love to you, Skip, in tha Midwest.)