“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 848 (Monday) – leisure day 2

Reclining on the glider.

A second consecutive day of leisure was enjoyed. The morning temperature was comfortable and breezes were wafting in the front porch. The street was quiet and peaceful, and it felt like the best parts of camping on the better days when the air was dry and fresh and the days weren’t sweltering.

Quality time was spent in the enclosed porch on the glider. The morning featured coffee and a book, and in the afternoon the beverage switched to ice water. 

There was contemplation of the ceiling and the project list item of painting the paneling up there in the Southern tradition of haint blue. Panels in blue and the cross bars in white? The whole thing in blue? If the cross bars and edges are in white, which should be painted first? It’s not exactly like the ponderings of the great Greek philosophers, but it's all I had for today.

During one trip inside, I caught the scent of the basil plant on the kitchen counter. That triggered the thought of tomato which flowed into thoughts of lunch and suddenly there was a tomato, provolone, basil, and Scala bread sandwich for out on the porch. It all felt very much like being on vacation.

At one point in the early afternoon, while lying on the porch glider, a slightly familiar feeling began to creep in. It was actual, bona fide relaxation. It’s been so long since the last time I felt physically relaxed it was almost hard to identify. 

Contemplating the
porch ceiling.

The evening capped off with fireworks all over the neighborhood. One street over, across Beaver Brook, and finally in the street directly in front of my house. The Nuisance House had a party, and this year’s expenditure in fireworks seems to have been pretty hefty. There were screamers, and twirly ones, and some that sounded like distressed birds. Or maybe after 20 minutes of it, it actually was distressed birds. Winston hid in the bathroom.

Some of them seemed to fire sideways and I’m curious to see by daylight the effect on the vinyl fence along the street. I tried watching from the front door, but it was hard to see the high ones, and the volume of crap raining down in the front yard made it feel unsafe to go outside. 

I could tell from the illumination that the deck on one side of the house and worse, my car parked in the driveway on the other side, was covered in blast debris. When it was all over, the neighbor folks did the first and most neighborly thing I’ve seen them do, possibly ever. They hauled out a leaf blower and spent a half hour cleaning up the street and my driveway.

By 10:00 all was quiet again. On my street anyway. Another major round began going off across the brook in Centralville and Winston retreated to the bathroom again. Tomorrow night is the City fireworks display, which was postponed from Saturday, but at least those are sent up further away from the house. It should feel less like The BungaLowell is under direct attack.