Wednesday, September 21, 2022
It’s late September, and we’re back from the big burn, back from bluegrass in Kansas. Outside the open window of my mud-room office, a light rain is falling and the temperature drifts towards the 50s. Camping gear and festival stuff is everywhere. My desk and the adjacent workbench are covered in the detritus of a month’s traveling and unpacking.
(My immediate field of view just below the monitors: 2 Altoids tins (1x actual mints; 1x weed), a vintage Leatherman tool, a chapstick, 2 lighters, a pile of dusty stickers, six pens & 2 pencils, $1.42 in change, some ink cartridges, matchbox, coffee mug, 2 festival wristbands, plastic Snoopy pencil sharpener dated 1958, microfiber glasses cloth, 2 pill bottles, some washers, 3 packing checklists, button that says “God Bless John Prine”, necklace with a tiny pewter guitar that says “THIS MACHINE KILLS FASCISTS”, index card that just says “Shit.” in large underlined letters, T25 driver bit, some screws, empty nitrous cartridge, beercan pop tabs, RockyGrass stage schedule.)
I can’t find anything. Every time I locate something like a pair of glasses, a wallet or a keychain goes missing. My phone’s been absent since Sunday at the latest. I think it’s probably in a pocket, a plastic tub, the corner of a rolled-up tent. Odds are decent I’ll see it again but I don’t know when. I admitted defeat a few minutes ago and ordered a new one.
Out in the yard, a good-sized buck is sitting under the neighbor’s tree. We made eye contact for a while after I stepped out the back door to watch the rain. He didn’t seem inclined to leave. Later, he’ll probably eat more of my garden.