The old creek-bed dried out. There was a dead snake at the head of the road. Now that the sun’s gone down, everyone’s coming out to walk their dogs, only the heat’s not done and the dogs are flustered, scared of the way the asphalt feels when it’s been cooked.
If your friend tells you the world’s not dying, you must smack them, aiming for the spot triangulated between their nose and eyes. If your partner tells you something similar, coax them to bed, and try to prove the world’s worth loving, breathing deep so you’re sucking up more of the hot carbon to prove your point.
This week, there were record-setting high temperatures in Europe.
Coffee: Organic Sumatra Blend, Trader Joe’s Brand; For the first time, I set my percolator to brew on delay. I woke up and walked in the kitchen and the room smelled like black beans, fresh brewed. I felt like a genius, a mad scientist, and the most boring sort of old man.
Just before work I tied my tie. It’s silk. It slipped. I tied it again. Even though it stuck the rest of the day, I kept fiddling with it. I’d stare it down in the bathroom. I fussed it over lunch.
Ties are more goofy than stylish. They’re descendants of the froofy things you see in old paintings pinching the necks of founding fathers. They don’t accessorize well, at best they blend in, and my assumption is they’re made to make you disarming, approachable like a chained dog, and that’s a little dishonest.
That said, I love getting ties as gifts and I love tying them. Kids dress up on Halloween. Can’t I dress up too?
Currently Reading: The Pardoner’s Tale, by John Wain