The spirits are knocking things around in my world like a dinghy on violent waters.
I'm at The House again.
I have some new guests.
Yes. It isn't bad enough that now I make coffee for myself in both of my houses (I haven't told you about the Cusinart in NoHo yet ... it's to-die) but making coffee entails having sugar at the ready. I found a nice little sugar bowl with a lid (ceramic, but a lid nonetheless) and I have it out on the kitchen counter.
The kitchen counter is white.
Sugar is white.
And while I can't see the sugar I must spill after each cup of coffee I prepare, I have some pesky little bastards who must have heard the dinner bell clanging away from behind the baseboards.
And the spiders which I let enjoy a San Francisco Zoo-like existence are of no help.
I love spiders, I think I've mentioned that before.
But spiders are like nature's clean cops (and by clean I mean a bunch of things) and while they are usually pretty good about snagging mosquitoes and gnats and flies and such ... they have a tough time with ants.
It must be the way cops have dirt on so many criminals, but they can't haul them in because there's not enough evidence to make anything stick and so it would just be a lot of paperwork.
So they just have to sit there and watch.
Needless to say I've been killing the little bastards like crazy.
I knew this coffee thing would lead to disaster.
And the thing I've been worrying about happening has finally happened.
I was in a hurry and didn't have time to brush my teeth.
But I didn't want to run the risk of offending the first person I ran into with my coffee breath so I grabbed the mouthwash from the bathroom sink ... the stuff my mom used to use ... the stuff that has been sitting in there for a couple of years or so ... and I took a big swig and swished it around like I always do.
And then I ran to my car.
I put the key in.
I waited for my ignition interlock device, to tell me to breathe into it so it can check for trace amounts of alcohol on my breath.
It said "Blow" like it always does.
I blew into it for the required amount of time like I always do.
And I watched it take longer than normal while I smelled the breath I just blew in the air around me ... the breath that smelled like Scope ... not the alcohol-free stuff ... regular Scope ... and I knew I was screwed.
"V I O L"
That's what it says when you fuck up.
It stands for violation.
And then it recharges and you have to wait a few minutes while it gears up and thank christ I had a bottle of water so I could guzzle most of it and then gargle with the rest of it and wait for it to say "Blow" again.
And I did.
And I was worried.
Because you only get one chance a month. If you get a second violation your car goes into "lockout" and you have to have your car towed to the nearest participating auto mechanic and then you pay $50 bucks and risk having to go to court where they could take your license away for ten years.
Needless to say it was with much trepidation that I blew for the second time and waited while it dissected my breath.
And I took off to the store and bought myself, among other things, a big bottle of alcohol-free Scope.
And now I'm here at The House with my unwanted visitors and my one violation against me and a million thoughts racing through my head while I type and get ready to watch the first game of the ALCS with the mighty Red Sox facing off against the Tampa Bay Rays.
Crazy shit is going on.
I can feel it in every thread of my body, in every glimmer of my own reflection I see across the room and think it's an intruder, in every lock of hair that falls in my face, giving the illusion that someone just walked by in the other room, in every car that I can hear driving two streets over.
I can feel it.
Thanks for reading.