Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Top of the evening to you, dear reader! How are you? I am fine. You probably had a superlative Wednesday, superlatively good, and I’m bursting at the seams to share my own day. Every morning should begin with a restful night’s sleep and a healthy breakfast, so let’s start there.

A bright sky shone through my window at about 7 AM, with lush audio accompaniment provided by a flock of mottled baby doves and my alarm clock. I leapt out of bed and cartwheeled into the shower, all the while humming a snatch of opera I had composed out of mirth, only to somersault minutes later into my kitchen as a clean and happy person.

“What ever shall I eat?” I said in a singsong voice.

I reached for an enormous mixing bowl with a smiley face imprinted on it and followed this recipe:

2 parts sunbeam
1 cup sugar
3 handfuls of glee
Pinch of levity
Joy to taste

Mix sugar, levity, and glee until splendiferous texture is achieved. Layer with sunbeam. Bake until golden and fuzzy, like a fed polar bear. Sprinkle joy as needed. Clap your goddamn hands.

I went to the parking lot with a full stomach and enthusiasm restored. My car suddenly exploded in a glorious fireball, which was a welcome sign to invite all my neighbors for a block party. We gathered around the blazing fire in a big circle, plates of my cheerful breakfast concoction perched on our laps, and we shared our hopes and dreams. Then I skipped to work.

The great thing about having your car explode is you get to pet all the feral rabbits on the roadside. I had a line of 45 bunnies following me when I met a panhandler, who was only slightly feral, and I waited until she finished playing Tetris on her cellphone to give her all my money. Tetris can be a hard game, scary sometimes with all the spooky Russian music, but I’m just glad if someone can get all the blocks to fit.

Work was phenomenal. I signed a contract for double the hours at half the pay. This made all my co-workers laugh very loudly. I guess this meant they were happy, so another brownie point for me. I skipped all the way home. The townhall of Wilmette saw fit to have our streets newly paved at 10 PM, because construction never, ever happens during the daytime. It’s okay, I love heavy machinery rumbling late at night and causing my very building to vibrate. Freshly paved roads are like daffodils for the gods. Hooray!

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

This missive, partially scrawled on the back of my ticket stub, comes from the cabin of a 737, and if that isn’t hackneyed enough for you, well, hand me a cocktail napkin so I can write my afterword. There’s something about a plane ride that makes you honest, gives you some religion, and in certain cases compels you to discussion.

Sitting to my left is a tot who, during moments when he isn’t chewing on his seatbelt, stares intently at this very scrap of paper. That’s sufficient encouragement to impart my wisdom–our wisdom, to be correct–and tether those vowels to the cogs of industry.

My flight was delayed because of an “equipment change,” which hopefully means they replaced the turbines prone to fiery explosion with turbines prone to stopping altogether. If I don’t make it, I can confidently say we’ve had a good run, not that you’d be able to read any of this, and I’m pleased our legacy ended with a post on incompetence. If I do make it, I believe it’s time to steer our enterprise toward parts unknown.

It’s been said almost all our recent talks contain at least one instance of morbidity daily, and I guess there’s some truth to this claim. Why this happened, I’m not exactly sure, but it was never my intention to darken your evenings with portents of despair. Ours was to be a happy home glazed with merriment and the laughter of children, not some charnel house grinding to the chorus of the wailing damned.

Tomorrow–and there will be a tomorrow–we start anew. I’m putting on my Happy Hat. You haven’t misplaced yours, I trust.

Friday, July 22, 2005

Secondhand Rants will return on Tuesday, July 26.