The title refers to the old joke about the centipede, asked to tell which foot it set in motion first: the one on the front row left, or the one on front row right? Resulting in a foot-tied rather than tongue-tied centipede.
Home. Chairs in a different configuration. The boy who stayed here while I was away brought his own food. Scorched one pan (nothing scouring can’t handle), and left everything else in tip-top shape. E-mail, agenda items, must buy new shoes since my toes poke out of the old ones. To-do this, to-do that. In no hurry to slip into anyone’s expectations as to the identity of the Real Me. Right now, the Real Me savors the last bits of the second bowl of morning coffee.
While in Alsace, I didn’t pay much attention to current world or national news. From the headlines, I don’t seem to have missed much. Must be a slow day in terms of catastrophes. The Nouvel Obs can’t do better in the fear department than ask: Should We Fear Supernovas? Best I can answer: I’ll take my chances with everyone else.
There’s way too much seriousness going around. Think straight kind of seriousness. Don’t think this, don’t say that.
A favorite moment during the last week: a visit to the church in Graffenwald with the person who waters the flowers and does the other off-stage chores. We entered through the sacristy where everything was solemn and the Christ statue pointed skyward to his Father’s Abode. A door led to the stage i.e. the altar (with a mike on it). Another door led offstage to a lav featuring a trusty snow shovel. The parish priest had called the off-stage person with his concerns about a missing flower vase. Which member of the community has taken off with one of the flower vases, I cannot say. The matter seemed of greater import than those fearsome supernovas about to explode and vaporize our piece of the universe.
In pressing concerns over here: retrieving my dog. Getting shoes out of which my toes don’t poke. Buying soil to re-pot a baby Douglas fir, gift from a man who has built the finest tree house I’ve had the privilege to see. A peek here :
The Centipede Conundrum extends to the draft, of course. Always an issue when the “where was I?” syndrome strikes. Read from the top, again? Eh. If I knew of a better system, I’d use it.