Skip to main content

Power Of Three


Woke up to a sparkling frost with grass like peppermint ice. Had a bother with the car door, which sometimes freezes shut. Today it locked itself open, hence the drive to the garage with binder twine tying me in, thinking I need a new lock on this, how much is a new lock? I have forty-five pence in my purse! Mr Garage Man squirts some WD40 and laughs at me. There is something wrong with the lock but it's the wrong time to protest: the right time to say thank you and drive Boy to school. He has his walking boots on and I brought Dog, thinking we might all have to walk home while the car was garaged. 
Take Dog to the park instead, where ancient pines hold symmetrically foliaged twigs up to cerulean sky, and the horizon is made of rolling moor hills. After much running, fantastically backlit, she comes back to the car with icy belly fur, dog-stalactites.
At home, I don't have to fumble for my house key with numb fingers, as Boy has thoughtfully left his in the door for me. I warm up with some housework, mainly dragging Dog fur off the carpet with heavy handed vacuuming. Until the tube snaps, then I have to get the brush. Brushing carpets warms me up very well indeed. After handling chili peppers, at lunchtime I also warm up my eyes. When they've calmed, I shall seek out some duct tape and mend the hoover. These things are not turning out as presupposed, but not so bad: with deft surrender, rather fun.

(Wondering about the title? Binder twine, WD40 and duct tape are the three most useful objects in the universe.)





Comments

Jeremy Bates said…
There's one problem with that door. WD40 won't last as long as a proper lubricant. Part of the makeup of WD40 is water and we all know what that does. I'd opt for some oil or better yet some graphite lubricant when you have the pounds.
The Cranky said…
Beautiful photos but OUCH the chilly weather.
Lisa Southard said…
There's more than one problem with the door! But oil is sensible, Jeremy, and cheaper than a new car.
Agreed Jacqueline! But am sat in a warm cottage now, with fully circulating blood. And pork roast in the oven. Splendid! :-)

Popular posts from this blog

Contact Pants Conundrum

There is weather today, I do note it: take a few moments to reckon the size of a cloud (big) and the frequency of rain (sporadic.) Centre of my interest though is a stack of magazines. Not the fashion kind. This is martial arts research. I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for, but intuition calls loud. A range of old adverts skew some amusement. Contact pants, for example. Pants are not trousers where I come from. They are underwear. Professional contact pants: improved smirk value. But why would a person be likely to purchase a grappling hook and a lock pick set? For specialists and hobbyists only, the blurb assures. Guidance on the pheromone spray that attracts women against their better judgement? I doubt it works any more proficiently than the mysterious potion that defines your muscles while you sleep. But, then: I wonder is some sprayed on this paper? What was my intuition thinking, making this ghastly shout… Tea break time. There's a lot of words...

Back From The Future Blog Party

Another joint blog adventure- if you want to see who else said what the list of participants is here . The premise is this: 'You're up before dawn on a Saturday when the doorbell rings. You haven't brewed your coffee so you wonder if you imagined the sound. Plonking the half-filled carafe in the sink, you go to the front door and cautiously swing it open. No one there. As you cast your eyes to the ground, you see a parcel addressed to you ... from you. You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox -- sent from ten years in the future -- and it's filled with items you have sent yourself. What's in it?' Here's how I imagined it: Before dawn? Shadows outside, first forming. Sleep has gone, I don't know where. Coffee I can find. All the way from Machu Pichu, this fair-traded pack. Scissors are in the drawer, which ...

A Glitch Or Two

My Chromebook has been crumbling. It seems a little like dementia, this inability to upgrade its powers of communication, it makes me sad, even for an object. It's one of the reasons my posts here have been put aside, that and generally being tumbled by tiredness. I have saved up money for a replacement, also I have spent that money on trees and shrubs. I have two novels to sort out however, and this will be the reason I save up again. I don't stop writing, even if I don't tell anyone. In the meantime should you need a calm place to go, I have begun a substack account. Please do drop by. If the kettle crumbles we can make tea (or soup) on the firepit. Me on substack:  Lisa Southard