What a difference a day makes!
Oh, my good golly gosh, what a great day was yesterday!
True, I spent a good portion of it elbow deep in kitchen filth that has been gathering momentum and mold for the last two or three months, but hey! That's all part of the glamour that is my life. There's been some kind of blockage in my head (for which I easily could--but won't--use a scatalogical metaphor) that has up until yesterday kept me from doing diddly squat to rise above the squallor. And what changed that? That may be an important piece of data for future reference. I'd like to say that something finally clicked in my head, that I finally got it and figured out the secret of life... And all that would be true, believe it or not, but that came after the dam broke. Or rather, after I broke the dam. The truth is, it just took an effort of will. Gumption. And where the hell does that come from? Where can you find it if you haven't got it? Do you just have to wait for the planets to align or what?
I dunno. And for the moment, that's not my problem.
As of this morning, I have gotten rid of 80% of the dirty dishes, 80% of the dirty laundry, 80% of the trash that needs to be taken out, and 80% of my hair (coincidence?).
It's true. I finally took the plunge and hacked the mop. And I couldn't be happier about that. It's the most expenive haircut I've ever gotten ($19), but also the best, and I got it in by far the coolest barber shop I've ever been in. The place is called Bishop's, and they have walls covered with magazine clippings that are sexy enough to verge on pornographic. But it's tasteful, and an equal opportunity sexiness for whoever you are and whatever you dig. And they offered me a Pabst Blue Ribbon at 10:00am to drink while I was getting my hair cut.
I was scolded for using mousse and/or gel in my hair. I've been introduced into the wonderful world of pomade. Folks, let me tell you, this changes everything! Seriously. The stuff he put on my hair made it look fucking fantastic, despite making me smell as though I'd bathed in some kind of industrial cleaning chemicals. The good news is I found some stuff at the grocery store that smells very little, and that little is cocoa butter, which kicks ass all over the windexy odor of the barbershop pomade.
Then I walked around downtown for a while, trying to enjoy the sun. Unfortunately, downtown Portland is a place where the sun only shines at precicely noon, even on a beautiful day. Otherwise you're always in the shadow of something. But I enjoyed myself anyway. I went to the cheap clothes store and bought a bunch of stuff, and that made me even happier. I look like a kid on the first day of school.
Has anyone else noticed that mens' underwear starts at medium, and goes up from there? My best guess to explain this phenomenon is that retailers assume men will not want to buy "small" underwear, for fear of labelling the contents of that underwear as similarly small. For craps' sake! I just want some boxers that will fit my relatively small waistline (there! I said it!) preferrably without having to shop in the boys' section. I'll take my chances with the girl at the register making dumb assumptions about the size of my package.
Then I went home to clean. Clean clean clean. But on my way home, I ran into not one, but two people trying to sell duracel AA batteries on the curbside, about two blocks apart from eachother. Aside from their peddling obviously stolen goods, these guys really didn't look like criminals. 'Sup, my honky hoodlum brothas? Box fell of a truck, maybe? Shakes head, smiles, walks on..
In short, it was a day worth having. And that's something that I don't take for granted, since there have been so many of the other kind recently. As I mentioned earlier, somewhere along the course of this day, I figured out the secret of life. I know a lot of you out there already know it, and this isn't the first time I've figured it out. If I could, I'd write it down for future reference. There's a good chance I'll forget again. But this is a secret that can't be told. Either you know it, or you don't. And it's a moment by moment kind of thing. But I'll give you a clue...
Driving along yesterday, I saw a woman who must have been in her 70's walking her dog. Her white hair was a bit thin, but she had it pulled into wispy pigtails on either side, as though she were sixty years younger. As I drove by, we made eye-contact, and she gave me a big grin. I gave it back. She knows the secret.
Now I'm off to tackle the remaining 20% of the garbage, dishes and laundry. I think I'll keep the last 20% of my hair. :)