In memory, the depiction of rabbits is cute and cuddly while the depiction of hares is mischievous if not downright evil.
OK. I just looked it up. Hares are much different from rabbits. They lope rather than hop. They are born precocial meaning they are fully formed with open eyes. Rabbits eat softer foods like leaves and shoots whereas hares eat harder things like bark and twigs. Hares are solitary while rabbits are social and live in groups. Hares are larger than rabbits and don't burrow. And finally, rabbits have been domesticated while hares have not.
Bugs Bunny--not a rabbit. Bugs is a hare.
Onward.
I drove across town yesterday to see if the plastics place could make a replacement for the light cover I broke changing my mother's bulbs. It was closed. There was a phone number on the door, so I called it. A man answered right away.
"Hi. I'm sitting outside your shop, but the sign says you are closed."
"Yes, we're closed for Good Friday."
"Oh."
Just the start of another shitty day.
I stopped at Chick-fil-A for lunch. That was pretty much a mistake, too. Not much was turning out to be good about Friday.
Now here's a horror I shouldn't share. It's not my fault, but my house has been invaded by flies. They appear on my kitchen windows. Nowhere else in the house, just there. They are slow and easy to swat. I'll look and there will be three or four of them. They are apparently retarded, too, because they don't fly away after I kill one of them. They just sit and wait. I think I've killed them all, but later there will be three of four more. WTF? This has been going on for days. They appear nowhere else in the house. I never see them fly. I feel gross, you know? But I swear, I haven't done anything. It is just more of the plague that has been cast upon me.
So I soaked and showered and napped and went to my mother's. When I got there, she was listening to something from Facebook, I'm sure, about gut health. Oh, man. . . Facebook is her source for everything.
"Listen carefully, mom, and hear what they are saying. These things can be or may be beneficial to gut health. Whatever. I'm tired of it all. Here are twenty seven foods you should eat every day. You need to get in your 10,000 steps and meditate for twenty minutes, but be sure to do some resistance training and of course yoga to maintain flexibility. And supplements? Twelve supplements everyone over forty should consider. If you get fat, it is because you don't eat right. They should just tell you the reason you put on weight, develop high blood pressure, get type 2 diabetes, etc. It is because you got old. But they want to guilt you for everything that goes wrong. He got cancer because he ate pork and smoked. His liver was shot from drinking. But you know, they ate and drank and smoked for thirty years and were fine because they were young. Then they got old and the shit got 'em. Fuck it. They should just tell you the truth. Disease is for the old."
She looked at me. I was pretty sure she didn't get a thing I said. But then she said, "I sure got old."
I have my annual check up with my shitty doc on Monday. I don't care anymore. No one lives forever, and the end is never fun. What can one hope for.
"Oh. . . he had such a beautiful death."Nope. You end up like the Pope.
It was Friday night.
"O.K. Party, mom."
Our joke. I tend to shut down and hunker at home on the weekends. I think it was Covid that did it. Many of my habits changed then. I wash my hands now, for instance. I never used to wash my hands but I sure do now. I don't even like touching public tabletops. So maybe my weekend home habits were born out of that. I don't know, but I rarely go out on the weekends anymore.
I was, however, looking forward to a Campari and cheroot on the deck. But first, I stopped at the grocers to get ingredients for the Cantonese garlic noodle bowl I was going to make for dinner. I got the recipe that morning from The New York Times.
As I sat on the deck, the tenant stopped by. She was going to the Film Festival of which she is a part. Ph.D. in film studies, she's a hot shit. She said Mia Farrow was speaking.
"Booo, Boooo, Boooooo," I roared.
"Yea. Maybe she'll get heckled."
"Nope. Not here. This is not a Woody Allen town. Q wants you to ask her what her brother went to prison for."
The brother of movie star Mia Farrow will spend the next 10 years in prison for sexually abusing two boys in Maryland.
John Charles Villiers-Farrow, 67, was sentenced Monday to 25 years in prison, with 15 years suspended.
Villiers-Farrow entered an Alford plea in July to two counts of child abuse in the molestation of two 10-year-old boys who were his neighbors in Anne Arundel County, Md., in 2002.
Huh. I guess he's out now. Served seven years and got paroled for three.
I'll guess, though, that no one brought it up.
I went in to make my Friday party meal. It took more effort than I had counted on. I fried some teriyaki tofu and an egg to put on top. I plated it and took it outside.
Friday night dinner for one. I did alright. It was pretty good. I'd change a few things if I made it again, but yea. . . it was a little party.
A package came as I ate. A big box from Pottery Barn. Tableware. I bought the set I have now in the 1990s. PB White. They are a classic. . . so much so, Pottery Barn doesn't sell the anymore. I love them, but they are almost all chipped now, so I ordered the PB Classic Rim. After dinner, I opened them. Not really what I wanted. They are too white. There are different kinds of whiteness. If you don't know, you must read "In Praise of Shadows" (link). The old plates were a subtle white, a pleasant white, a beautiful white.
Selavy.
I put the new plates along with the mess from dinner in the dishwasher. As is tradition, of course, I poured myself a scotch.
The sun went down. It was 8:30. I put on music. Fucking music.
Early bed. I wear a mouthpiece now to counter my snoring. Apnea. It will kill me, they say. Now. I have always snored, maybe apnea. It doesn't kill you when you are young. Like everything else. It waits.
All these thoughts dance around in my head
Close your eyes count the blessings[?] go to sleep;
Seein shadows on the wall
They come and go like memories from long ago
Don't chase 'em down, let them be - go back to sleep;
There are monsters under your bed
I hear them laughing, feel them shakin' the bed
I grab your hand, you hold me tight until they're gone
You hold me close with all your might all night long;
Morning comes and you are gone
Your pillow's cold and once again im all alone
Why did you leave or was this night just a dream?
Shadows float back in the room
My curtains' drawn the monsters come back far to soon
I close my eyes and wait for you to rescue me
I close them tight and try to drift back to my dream;
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