Asking whether Mercury is in retrograde — it is — may be only a slightly more ridiculous way to ask what the hell is going on and why is everything so screwed up, but it works for me. Let’s run down the woes, shall we?
Plane crash in San Francisco
Train crash in Quebec
Massacre in Egypt
And so on. My car required a heart-clutchingly expensive repair to the steering. On a bike ride last Saturday, both my partner and I got flat tires. Everyone I know is falling off ladders or bonking their heads on open cabinet doors. The dog was in a lather all day, begging to go outside. Where it was a mere 88 degrees with tropical humidity.
I had no ride to pick up the car, but I did have a bicycle (flat fixed). An enormous storm was building in the southwest, so I set out to get there as quickly as possible on an extremely unpleasant route through a bike-hostile suburb. Which I hate. But I made good time, paid the heart-clutching bill, threw the trusty bike in the back and thought, you may not be the best way to get around town in January, but you haven’t cost me $1,700 lately.
All of which adds up to: I am tired. So not much from me tonight. Kate and I saw “The Kings of Summer” tonight, an uneven but sweet film about three boys who run away from home and move into a house of their own construction in an Ohio glade. The Plain Dealer newspaper boxes and Berea fire trucks identified the venue as northeasterly, but a climactic scene with a copperhead had me rolling my eyes — I don’t think they’re found anywhere near Cleveland. That’s one of those things an Ohio girl knows: There’s very little to fear in the Ohio woods, although once a DNR photographer was killed by a rutting buck, who gored him.
The look on this woman’s face as she listens to the Indiana governor is simply priceless.
The new Google Maps app ad was shot here. Our crazy town.
And with that, I head for the sack and hope Thursday is a bit less expensive.