A Bright, Do-Nothing Day

Whenever a Republican wins a presidential election, I cut a branch or two off the dracaena that's been growing in a pot in a corner of our dining room for decades. It was getting sort of tall.

I can't quite explain it, but I found myself taking great pleasure as I held the branches over the yard waste bin out by the garage—glorious sunny morning—and cut the branches into very short lengths, one after the other, with my pruning shears.

The other day we invited a couple of friends over to commiserate about the election, but couldn't quite decide what to call the event: Whine and Wine? or Gnash and Nosh?

I'm through with politics for a while. I glance at the headlines and then look away, as if I've been accosted by the sight of a rotting carcass. No need to scrutinize the autopsy report right now.

The leaves are crisp and dry, and I've been raking them up a sections, but there are still plenty to gather up.  I've noticed that if you rake half the yard, a few days later the leaves will be evenly distributed again over the entire yard. How could this be?

In any case, on a day like today it won't do to simply wander the house, staring out the windows, so I came up with a plan. I was going the do a few of things I should have done a long time ago, such as buying a tube of Henry's rubber roof repair goo to squeeze into the opening above the gutters that the ice dams like to take advantage of. As it happens, the hardware store is right next to the liquor store. Although our recent guests brought plenty of wine with them, it seems we're now out. So I added that stop to the itinerary..

During our little soirée the conversation moved so thick and so fast that we forgot to set out half the food we'd planned to serve, and now we have a fridge full of spanakopita and smoked salmon. My idea is to add the salmon in little strips to some spinach pasta along with cream, maybe a few capers, and fresh dill. A trip to the grocery store is now in order.

And wonder of wonders, just now I even brought a box of books up from the basement and ran it out to the car. Someone had written <Good. Sell These> in bold letters on the side. That was me. I'm getting rid of it, without even looking inside. No second thoughts. No regrets.

But right now it's out into the yard to show those luscious crispy crackly leaves who's boss.