(The chairs are un-stacked, the umbrella is up. The patio is straining with anticipation. Hockey is almost over; the Wizards are out of the playoffs, it is too soon to care about Baseball. There is only one answer. Photo Socotra).
I was walking down the passageway to get to the garage this morning and saw Jiggs coming up the other way. It looked like he had been walking outside. I envied his dedication, but of course I didn’t have anyplace to be for a while, and have got out of the habit of exercising before the office because, well, there is no office.
I was only taking the indoor route because it was raining puppies and kittens outside- it had been mastiffs and panthers earlier, but news-and-weather-on-the-eights told me that it was going to continue to be wet for a while and the Panzer was scheduled for routine maintenance and annual inspections, 0715 sharp.
We exchanged pleasantries, and he said he noticed The Daily was arriving later and later.
I told him it was a function of semi-retirement, not mentioning that the morning stream of activity has subtly mutated, gone partially underground, and turned into several manifestations of commentary that could wind up having me pilloried in public, like not believing computer models are caused by CO2, or however that works.
I didn’t want to get off on that, or any other topic that people are so damn sensitive about these days- the last thing I needed before the car dealership was some act of patriarchal micro-aggression based on privilege. I told him that later seemed to work better, and didn’t mention that I feel an increasing sense of ennui for daily production.
It is not lack of energy, nor anything approaching writer’s block. Quite the contrary.
In fact, the whole thing is starting to get out of control. I was talking to a pal at Willow last night about it. It is time to generate the book that has been bobbing in the settling pond, and there is another beyond that which may have had enough time to leach out some of the raw emotion and leave the framework of something that is true, and funny and possibly even useful.
But then I got swept away in the smaller stories of smaller life and lose sight of what is floating out there still. Get focused. Get to work, dammit.
Now, looking up, I see it is noon already and I should be doing something else. This morning was a beginning. I opened the door to the hallway and marched down to talk to Rhonda at the Concierge Desk. In front of here was a sign that said the 2014 Pool Passes were available for pick up.
I asked for mine, and was presented with the card, officially endorsed by the Big Pink Condominium Unit Owner’s Association. The new crop of Polish Life Guards cannot be far behind.
And in a week, I will once more have an excuse for getting the story out late, and I know what that is going to be:
A plunge in the deep blue waters of the Big Pink pool.
Copyright 2014 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303