<Oct. 2/13.> So, I’ve just moved to the Big City. Spent the past three months living in places so quiet you could practically hear the grass growing. Ahhhhhhh. So peaceful…Whip-poor-wills whip-poor-willing (sometimes irritatingly, it must be admitted). River rapids rushing.
Just moved. As of yet I do not own
I do still own the items referenced in the posting ‘Have Pressure Cooker, Will Travel’. But I’ve stopped the wandering gig. So now I need to acquire bed, couch …well, you get the picture.
Turns out I do own, count ‘em, four rulers.
Needed one tonight for a new-shower-curtain-cutting gig. One would’ve done the trick. A sharper pair of scissors wouldn’t have hurt either, as it happens. No matter. All things in good time. Between friends & Value Village/2nd-hand stores, it will all come together.
Judging by the amount of noise I am hearing on this very busy street, I may need to break out the old earplugs, too. (I think the young person in the family above here must bowl on the living room floor. Not sure what else would explain the very loud noises I often hear. Either that or cartwheels with work boots on?? It is a puzzle. Ah well. It’s just noise…right?? )
The place I just moved from was so quiet, I often heard owls hooting at night … when I slept out on the porch (which I did 99.9% of the time). Sometimes wolves howling.
As I said to someone yesterday, I’d started my day in a place where, if I’d screamed, no one would have heard me. And I ended it, as my companion pointed out, in a place where if I screamed, no one would care. **
Big City Life, eh??
Well, I’m adaptable. I can bend.
& besides – that new shower curtain that I needed the ruler & scissors for? It will be a daily reminder of where I just came from. It’s got owls all over it.
** but it isn’t true that no one would care. This is a nice neighbourhood. People/someone would care. I’m pretty sure.
‘Quote of the day’ with this post: “Be like a tree in pursuit of your cause. Stand firm, grip hard, thrust upward, bend to the winds of heaven, and learn tranquillity.” – Dedication to Richard St. Berbe Baker, Father of Trees