Peter, the leonine aquatic magnate who services the pool has been busy. The deck is power-washed, the gunk of the long long winter has been vacuumed out, the blue water is pristine once more, and the tables and chairs have emerged from storage down in the life-guard office in the basement.
A tipping point in the season.
That is not the only one. I got back from the farm and realized I would rather still be there.
The center of gravity has changed- lurched, really. The unit in Big Pink is no longer really mine. The farm is where my crap is. Oh, not all of it, but there is no television here, since it is wrapped in plastic, and by Friday the movers will come to clear things out in accordance with the stern admonition of The Stager.
Then, I will be living in a Potemkin Village in the Merry Month of May, an artificial environment in which my incorrect life and career are not on display.
There is a bunch more stuff that needs to get out of here that can’t go to storage, for one reason or another, and I will have to deal with that as the bedroom is swathed in plastic and sanded and primed and painted. Then the tipping point will have been reached, at least for the near term, until the place sells, or it doesn’t.
If it is the latter, I will not fill this up with crap again. I swear.
Course, you should see the Farm. I think I need to commission Don-the-Builder to construct a museum annex. Hahaha.
The pool opens on Saturday, ten o’clock sharp. Another tipping point- and one that is not unpleasant in the slightest.
And the rain held off in Arlington, and “A Taste of Arlington” was a success in more ways than one. Willow owner Tracy O’Grady and her Special Flatbread won the prestigious Harris Teeter Supermarket Golden Plate.
We know what the special will be this week. And not a single political polemic in it.
(Tracy O’Grady with the Golden Plate at “A Taste of Arlington.” Photo Willow)
Copyright 2013 Vic Socotra
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