I respect these people, and I had to show them that

March 5th, 2007

Deprecated: preg_replace(): The /e modifier is deprecated, use preg_replace_callback instead in /home/flimshaw/thatburningsmell.com/wp-includes/functions-formatting.php on line 76

OH GOD! BEN!

Thank gods you are okay. I’ve always been a little afraid of elevators. In fact, of the two kinds of recurring dreams I’ve had in my lifetime, one is sudden nuclear detonation, and the other is elevator collapse. I guess that means that those two things are at the top of my subconscious fears list. At the lawfirm, I was on the 23rd floor, and so our elevator bank started at like, 15 I think and went up to 30. So if I hit Lobby at 23 and everybody below me was working late, man, that shit was a ROCKET to the ground. Really scary sometimes. I got the feeling the elevator was just hot-rodding, trying to get in my pleated khaki pants.

Again, this weekend drove home the fact that I am an emotional slave to my environment. I’ve felt sorta blah for the past few weeks. Even though days are getting longer, I’m still a bit of a mess in the spring time. But, I got this weekend off from building electronics, so I was going to go to the bookstore to get a book about woodworking. I got my coat and headed outside. But opening the door… a blast of sunshine and springtime hit me in the face like the slap of a hot older woman. Within minutes, I was pretty much as happy as I possibly could be. Jumped in the car and cruised down Kelly Drive, listened to the Kinks, drank coffee from a travel mug. It was glorious. And I just drove all over, went to some woodworking store in Delaware where they had all kinds of strange varieties. They had wood that was naturally purple. Wood for boats. Wood that smelled nice. Wood that you glue onto bad wood to make it look better.

Anyhow, I bought a couple clamps and a hunk of pine to start with. I don’t know what I’m doing, so while I could afford, you know, 30 year old teak from the Andria Doria or whatever, I’d feel like a heel gluing a wobbly box together out of some tree that only existed for 12 minutes in April of 1922. I respect these people, and I had to show them that. I’m sure the wood guys wouldn’t buy their idiot 5 year old son a MacPro right in front of me. That was sort of my thinking.

Take the stairs, you know how I worry,
Charlie

Archives