Here, There, and Everywhere
22/07/12 11:49
If I had to characterize the summer thus far I would dub it the summer of the $5 lobster roll. The place out on route 1 with the sign that reads "lob rolls - $5" has become our favorite takeout destination. This is especially true on those oh-so-hot days when we don't care to spend any time whatsoever in the kitchen. The rolls are nicely toasted and contain but a smattering of lettuce; there is not an abundance of lobster but what do you expect for $5; and the lobster is sweet and succulent. There are discernible clumps of lobster claws and other body parts that give even the harshest critics of sub-par lobster roll purveyors something to chew on. In other words, it is not the usual mishmash one might expect from such places where real lobster is hard to find amidst the mayonnaise, celery and lettuce. It is simply a walk-away sensation! Mrs G is a fan as well and joins us more often than not. She and the Mr. have a roll a piece once she gets home and all is well with the world.
Not sure when the piles started but started they did with or without me. Wherever you look there are piles; beside the bed; on the kitchen table; on each of the chairs sitting at the table; in the garage; on and around the washing machines; and those are only the ones I've noticed. They start as individual piles but are soon connecting with other piles. Things once simply strewn about have become more recently knee deep and now forgotten. Funny thing is, the lamenting that goes on when something is missing or cannot be found is endless. All of this, a psychologist might tell you, is a cry for help. I see it as a case of serial disorganization and it leaves me with only two choices. I can battle back and insist that it change or I can give in to these monstrous forces and live someone else's life. It is not as sad as it sounds. The law of entropy says quite clearly that the forces of nature move from order to disorder and I get that. For someone like me who needs more than his share of organization in his life just to ward off the demons, it is a veritable highway to hell. And, if she doesn't stop brining home cooked shrimp I don't know what I'm going to do.
But life goes on. I thank the baby Jesus every day that Al Gore invented the internet and now and I and others around the world enjoy the fruits of his labor. I am particularly grateful for WIFI which introduces an altogether different dimension to my existence. I've come a long way from the days of my childhood in the Adirondack's when I sought refuge beneath the blankets on my bed while listening to my little transistor radio. There is just no comparison. If I want to listen to Czech radio then that is what I'll do. If I want to subject myself to the endless abuse at the hands of those with whom I play Words with Friends, then that is my prerogative. If I want to listen to replays of the Sunday talking heads shows on network television while sitting down to dinner then that option is available to me. If I want to watch a video on how to fix something, and I am definitely not one of those types who follow written directions well, I can watch, listen, and learn. Hell, I have video of the New England Patriots from this season past where they took it on the chin in their final game. I can't replay that often enough. God, I love to hate those bastards.
Not sure when the piles started but started they did with or without me. Wherever you look there are piles; beside the bed; on the kitchen table; on each of the chairs sitting at the table; in the garage; on and around the washing machines; and those are only the ones I've noticed. They start as individual piles but are soon connecting with other piles. Things once simply strewn about have become more recently knee deep and now forgotten. Funny thing is, the lamenting that goes on when something is missing or cannot be found is endless. All of this, a psychologist might tell you, is a cry for help. I see it as a case of serial disorganization and it leaves me with only two choices. I can battle back and insist that it change or I can give in to these monstrous forces and live someone else's life. It is not as sad as it sounds. The law of entropy says quite clearly that the forces of nature move from order to disorder and I get that. For someone like me who needs more than his share of organization in his life just to ward off the demons, it is a veritable highway to hell. And, if she doesn't stop brining home cooked shrimp I don't know what I'm going to do.
But life goes on. I thank the baby Jesus every day that Al Gore invented the internet and now and I and others around the world enjoy the fruits of his labor. I am particularly grateful for WIFI which introduces an altogether different dimension to my existence. I've come a long way from the days of my childhood in the Adirondack's when I sought refuge beneath the blankets on my bed while listening to my little transistor radio. There is just no comparison. If I want to listen to Czech radio then that is what I'll do. If I want to subject myself to the endless abuse at the hands of those with whom I play Words with Friends, then that is my prerogative. If I want to listen to replays of the Sunday talking heads shows on network television while sitting down to dinner then that option is available to me. If I want to watch a video on how to fix something, and I am definitely not one of those types who follow written directions well, I can watch, listen, and learn. Hell, I have video of the New England Patriots from this season past where they took it on the chin in their final game. I can't replay that often enough. God, I love to hate those bastards.