Tainted Love

Perhaps it would be a stretch to call it a modern reiteration of Gift of the Magi, but a few Christmases ago, Jim bought Leslie a TUSHY. Unbeknownst, Leslie bought one for her beloved, causing an embarrassment of selfless exchange and bidet attachments. When it came to installation, Jim, handy but procrastinating, didn’t get around to it. Until last week.

     The next day over coffee he recounted in discrete detail his tactile and hygienic awakenings, his metamorphic revelation of mysteries exotic yet familiar.

     He may not have gazed upon the face of Agamemnon, but it was still a moving experience.

Inspired by Potentially Useful Stuff. Photo of Agamemnon from Wikipedia, modifications by ChatCPT.

Potentially Useful Stuff

Henry would never move, because he’d have to get rid of things: furniture, personal effects, his salvage trove. His wife belittled the latter as junk. 

      This rankled him. There was virtue in thrift. When something broke, he fixed it—yes, perhaps imperfectly, but it worked (sort of). Before discarding anything, he stripped it of parts and fasteners that might prove useful, storing them in bins in the basement. “Why buy a hundred screws,” he told Margaret, “when a single repurposed bolt works fine?”

      She called him a hoarder. 

      “No,” he rejoined stubbornly. “I am the custodian of potentially useful stuff.”

Inspired by My True Nemesis. Image by cheetahlip on Reddit

My True Nemesis

I hate packing, so I’m never moving again. My kids will have to pack up all my stuff when I’m gone. So I’ve said countless times. But that was before the meniscus tear on my left knee and the onset of arthritis in both. Now I know my true nemesis—the one that might make me go back on my word—the stairs. It’s an Edwardian workers’ house, so they’re steep, narrow and worn. I am frantically exercising to strengthen the muscles around my knees—wondering if I’ve left it too late. While every day, my nemesis creaks with laughter.

Inspired by Existential Home Improvement. Image of her stairs by Nancy

In which a Nerd Confronts his own Mortality

Turns out there are only fourteen different calendar configurations: one for each day at the start of a regular year; another seven for leap years. Had I known sooner, I could’ve bought enough calendars to last my entire life.

Still, by 1995, I had managed to collect half of them, and so pulled out a chart I’d found, and for each wrote down every year for which it would again be valid. Pushing into the 2040s, I began to wonder just how much longer I might be valid, and ended up scuttling the project for fear of tempting the fates.

Inspired by Existential Home Improvement. Image by Meta.

Existential Home Improvement

Bee sat on my couch, looked up at our staircase and said, “Ah, geez, when you replacing that carpet?”
     I thought I just did, but that was 25 years ago. It owes us nothing, having survived five cats, three dogs and their pals, countless sploshed coffees and kid effluvia. It’s professionally cleaned twice a year, but there’s just so much you can do. So, we’re going to replace it. And much like our planned new water heater and furnace, once it’s done, we probably won’t have to do it again.

     Because we’ll be dead.

     Best to go with a neutral.

Inspired by Proof of Life. Photo by Laurie of the carpet that owes us nothing, soon to be replaced by the Stairway to Heaven.

Proof of Life

Roy knows I hate missing deadlines. Maybe that’s from years of client work (I don’t miss that), or my Navy days (I do miss them), but I’m never late to post. The “tell” for Roy is that I pre-post a draft the day before deadline, and schedule it to publish at 0830 on Due Day. So, this week, there's no draft from me at all, and Roy texts, tongue-in-cheek, “I need some proof of life.”

     I can’t imagine a better proof of life than a hike in the woods. So here's my proof, and my excuse for almost missing deadline. 

Inspired by Roy who is our Exquisite Corpse choirmaster. Photo by Jacquie Maund.

How I Wrote This Drabble

Spent the previous four days procrastinating
Reread Laurie’s drabble
Took a shower to think about it
Spent an hour phone scrolling
Made a cup of tea
Cleaned off the cat hair from my office chair
Answered emails
Went pee
Read Laurie’s again
Wrote
Deleted
Wrote
Deleted
Played Candy Crush
Wrote 340 words
Had lunch while watching an episode of Deep Space Nine
Answered emails
Cut it down to 88 words
Put some words back
Now it was 108 words long
Cut 10
Added three
Hyphenated-something
Got it to exactly 100 words
Found an image at the very last moment
Posted

Inspired by Routine. Photo by Nancy of Daisy, the culprit who sheds hair over Nancy’s chair.