Whoa! Didja get the numbers off that truck?!?


August 30, 2001 - 8:37 p.m.

The bum

The first thing that crossed my mind when I woke up at about 4:30 AM this morning was ďI donít have a job.Ē Boy, that woke me up! It was strange not hearing the alarm. My neighbor and her friend were coming home at about that time. Itís hard to eavesdrop when youíre half asleep.

Actually this relaxed lifestyle is kind of nice, if it just werenít for that pesky ďyou gotta getta jobĒ voice in the back of my head. The dogs like having me around. Slackjaw is the ferocious protector, barking at every window like a demented bully. She never lets her guard down because Evil never sleeps. Tandog always thinks weíre going outside to play.

My older sister is an organic gardener. (Remind me to tell you about her duck based insect control project. It ends with a scene based on Apocalypse Now) Sheíd be proud of me. My Intended bought me a Bio-Orb a few years ago. If you havenít seen one, itís a huge black plastic hollow ball with a lid that snaps on the top. You fill it with grass clippings, dirt, leaves, coffee grounds, hopes, wishes and prayers. As it composts, youíre supposed to roll it around to mix it up and speed up the process. With me though Iím kind of heavy on the grass clippings which mean it gets ďsour.Ē Sour as in it smells like shit. I have to tear off strips of newspaper to sweeten it up. Then I roll it around some more. It gets heavy and hard to steer, and I get to enjoy that nasty smell.

A bag of 10-10-10 at Home Depot is about eight bucks. Thatís where Newt and I part company.

So this Bio-Orb has been neglected all summer long. It still has stuff in it from last year. When it got full I just got some of those huge paper bags at the hardware store and let the City worry about my grass clippings. Besides, almost all of my garden spaces are eliminatedÖ Iíve been a minimalist gardener these days.

But I have to mow the lawn and Iím out of bags. Fine. Letís see if we can roll this big black Buddha of a Bio-Orb and wake him up. Heís probably pissed and has that organic indigestion that neglected compost piles have. Either that or heís one solid mass.

It was the latter. I managed to get a few revolutions out of it to knock it loose, and it didnít smell like shit, thankfully. I was getting tired of this rolling game, so I deliberately rolled it over too far sideways, knowing it would knock the lid off and the game would have to end. Sure enough, he spilled his guts.

Wow.

Itís black, rich, dampÖ and a little chunky. But it looks like dirt! So this is how itís supposed to work! I rolled it in a semicircle and dumped the rest of the black contents of the bio-orb out onto the ground. I felt so, like, natural man! This organic stuff is really groovy, man!

I shoveled and raked and spread this black magic dirt-like goodness on the bare patches in my lawn. Then I spread grass seed on top of it. I let it rest all day to dry the moisture out. Then just before sunset I was out there in my bare feet mooshing al this black dirt/grass seed stuff out flat onto the ground. I rained a good amount of water on it to get it to set into the ground.

The grass had better fly out of this magical stuff. Maybe if I play some Grateful Dead music in the backyard itíll speed the process?


Yes, I was a good boy. I posted my resume all over the Internet. I made a few contacts, sent some emails. And I downloaded some tuneage for The Intendedís next CD. I never run out of ideas for her. Oh wait, that was supposed to be a surprise!

And I swam in my pool. Hey I deserve it, I worked hard. Itís still pretty high in chlorine; the algae and I had a little skirmish a few days ago. Algae are no match for huge gobs of Calcium Hypochlorite. The enemy had gained a foothold in some patches on the bottom and on the ladder. Die, you fuckers! I donít know how many swim days I have left; I planned on closing it this weekend. So I swam around as much as I could and tried to think about next year when Iíd open it again. September around here is filled with cold days, and swimming in water thatís less than eighty degrees (for me) is too much character development. I get enough of that from being an unemployed bum.







the last one -*- the next one


Current Terr Alert Level
Terror Alert Level
OMG, She's agonna blow!

blah blah:


book
about me
archives
notes
mothership
contact
readme

Elsewhere:

UncleBob
Ibepiglet
mkm
kitchenlogic
BoxFactoryBill
laurel825
weetabix
nixtress
porktornado
discothekid
sunnflower
Janina