Friday, October 30, 2015
Well, here it is Friday morning, and I suddenly remember that I'm supposed to have written a blog post. I guess I'll talk about whatever has been on my mind for the past week.
Tomorrow night we set the clocks back. Fall is here for certain in Lambertville, the Halloween capital of pretty much everywhere. Gorgeous displays bedeck the yards of Union Street, Dolores Dragan's being the most spectacular. The leaves have turned, many have fallen. Everett was out yesterday with a big gas leaf-blower, blowing the leaves from the funeral home sidewalk into the street. The wind blew them all back again. Some things are hardly worth doing, though a good Halloween display is forever.
Speaking of the weather, last night I showed up late at the monthly meeting of the Zoning Board of Adjustment, having totally forgotten about it due to my absorption in Sunday's episode of The Good Wife. (You can see these on CBS.com if you're willing to wait until Monday or later.) Luckily I didn't hold them up. Only one case was before the Zoning Board, that of a local electrician who sells generators. He needed permission to put an apartment over his place of business. I was kind of tickled to see him waxing nostalgic over Hurricane Sandy. We haven't had a hurricane since then, or any other major power outage that I can recall, so the traffic in generators has fallen off dramatically. Alan would like to see another good hurricane.
Change is in the air, if not hurricanes. Change of time, change of season. Last night I dreamed we were selling the house. A hot-shot real estate agent was showing me all around Lambertville in my dream, offering me other houses, big old Victorian palaces with English gardens. These days you can't get a doghouse in Lambertville for much under a million dollars, so I was eagerly awaiting the realtor's assessment of what our little hovel was worth, and thinking, we could move here, we could move there. Then I thought, wait, this is my house. Why would I want to leave it? And I woke up.
So you see, I'm perfectly happy with my life. I like my house, even though the neighbors are given to noisy drama. I have no generators to sell if the apocalypse comes, so I won't wish for it. I'm sorry the cat died, poor little booger, but they don't live forever, and now we can go traveling without feeling bad about leaving the cat. Because we don't live forever, either.
© 2015 Kate Gallison