7/3/17

7/3/17 6:46PM

Hours escape.  How is it already 6:46PM?

This morning I stopped at the library because they’re closed tomorrow and I could, theoretically, finish the Sedaris diaries before they reopen Wednesday morning, so I needed another book.  I accidentally called one of the younger aides “Brooke” because she looks, from behind, like Brooke.  They’re both very thin and wear dark colors.  She smiled and didn’t seem to mind.  I checked out a book of comedian road stories, the Hyperbole and a Half collection (read before), and, uh, a couple other books I can’t remember.  They’re in the car.  I also checked out the movie Underworld.  Sometimes I’m in the mood for that sort of thing.  An old woman tutored a hispanic teenager with a neck tattoo at a table near the window.  They laughed and seemed happy chatting.  An old guy with long, bristly hair sat at another table and read a newspaper.

After the library I drove through Cedarburg/Thiensville, then down Sherman to Wisconsin, then east through downtown.  I stopped at Downtown books and bought a Merton collection in part because the road to Downtown Books is closed for construction and I wanted to show solidarity to their customer-access plight.  Sooner or later that store will shut down.  They all shut down sooner or later.  I hope I’m dead when it happens.  The cashier (the same cashier is rarely present twice), a severe woman with glasses, called the black and white cat a boogerhead for sneaking out the front door.  The cat looked pissed.  I bought a Merton reader.  They had at least a dozen of his Mountain book, I don’t remember the exact title, and easily two dozen other titles, so I went wide and shallow.  As I left the store a man with a walker asked me if I smoked.  

On the way through downtown S texted that her lawn mower needed oil.  I stopped at the hardware store on Downer to get some.  There’s only one kind, right?  There’s a photo of a lawn mower on the oil, so I hope it’s the right kind.  While both entering and leaving the store other shoppers held the door for me.  The employee who helped me find the oil (I was in the polar opposite store corner) had forearm tattoos.  The cashier didn’t give me a receipt.  I appreciate when cashiers don’t give me receipts for items I won’t return.  Who returns motor oil?

S’s lawn mower predates the century, but I poured in the oil anyway and cut her grass.  She lives on a hill, so the process is a workout, in front, anyway, and towards the end white smoke billowed from the machine.  I hope the oil isn’t the problem.  We ate a little, then I drove over to Trader Joe’s and bought a Japanese beer that I think Haruki Murakmi drinks.  N texted for chicken so I stopped at Meijier for that, too.  I don’t want to drive the next few days. That shouldn’t be hard unless I decide to cover the busted up patio with dirt/mulch from the city yard.

After I woke from a 45 minute nap N and I watched the first half hour or so of The Mask.  That movie is horrible, young Cameron Diaz nonwithstanding.

I’m very tired.  Not sure why.  My face is hot, too.  Lately I wait to sleep.  My life doesn’t contain much purpose.  Tomorrow I’ll apply for another job.