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dragonlady7via https://ift.tt/3fOSKCQ
The drive across the state is annoyingly long. It’s long enough to really
immerse yourself in a thought, yeah, but then it’s so long you come out the
other side of that thought, and have to change the playlist, and then
meander back in, and wind up down a mental rabbit-hole to the point that
sometimes I forget which direction I’m driving and whether I’m going to
arrive at my house or at the farm, or if maybe I’m going to wind up
somewhere else entirely, and I forget who I am and what it was that I
wanted in life, and… you’d think zoning out would be nice, but I never
manage to lose any time to it, driving is absorbing enough (especially
today, good Christ, there are so many camper trailers on the road going
slow that you’re just constantly in a line of cars in the left lane trying
to pass an unreasonably slow camper being towed by an underpowered truck
and then another camper has to pass it and then there’s a double
tractor-trailer that wants to get over too and some Masshole is whipping by
at 95 but the camper’s doing fifty-eight and absolutely has to get past the
other camper doing fifty-five and you all just fucking sit there until you
all die, and then finally that clears up but then nobody from Ontario or
Ohio or Vermont has ever been told before that you’re supposed to keep
right except to pass so they’re all delighted to get out into the passing
lane so they can cruise at 72 and the Masshole who is trying to do 95
is *losing
his mind* and you by this point don’t remember who you are or where you’re
going but by all that’s holy, you sure haven’t zoned out for a single
moment of this drive, no sir you have been *completely fucking present in
your fucking body for every instant of it* because there is no reason for
any of this but here you are, here you all are, all of us, together, on
this fucking road, for some fucking reason) that you never lose a moment
and you’re aware of every *instant* that passes.
anyway. It wasn’t a pleasant drive, per se (pleasant is when nobody’s on
the road, which let me tell you, May and June were pretty fuckin’ sweet,
but alas, people are out and about again, and most of them have rented
campers for their getaways which is great and responsible insofar as
distancing and seclusion goes but let me tell you it sucks for traffic,
absolutely fuck that), but it did pass, and with this weather, it was just
as well to be inside the car. 300 miles is just short enough that I don’t
have to stop for gas, so I don’t; if I don’t bring a coffee with me, I
don’t have to stop to empty my personal tank either, so I do just fine. I
got a bit sleepy, today, but singing is good for that– pro tip, always have
an upbeat album you can sing along to
I got to the farm, parked my car, got out, realized it was 96 degrees and
at least 75% humidity, carried some things into the house, and then
realized not only was nobody present, but also the dog wasn’t present. I
went out and stood on the porch and heard voices, and followed them, and
presently discovered my sister, at least, and her daughter, and a friend,
in the creek under the highway overpass– yes, that’s where the swimming
hole is, it’s a lovely little secluded spot and gravel trucks go by at
55mph every 15 minutes on weekdays, roaring overhead, you don’t really even
notice it after a while.
[image description: the swimming hole under the overpass of NY Route 2. In
the background is the concrete foundation of the overpass next to the
greenery-covered bank of the Quackenkill, in the foreground is a
beautifully-eroded hunk of shale, upon which my sister is sitting in a pink
bathing suit and blue shorts with her sandal-clad feet in the water, and in
the mid-ground my niece is in a lifejacket in the deepest bit of the creek
which is just deep enough that if she picks her feet up she can float,
tucked up next to a big rock.]
Anyway since then I’ve soaked my feet in the creek, then taught Farmkid how
to sew, witnessed a microburst that destroyed two full days of haying work
by BIL (the baler was LITERALLY ENROUTE and he’d spent two days raking the
hay into windrows, and it was JUST ENOUGH rain (four hundredths of an inch)
that all of that will have to be redone– every rain fall leaches nutrients
from the hay, and hay absolutely cannot be baled even the slightest bit
damp or it will catch fire or mold into inedibility or both), had a shot of
rum with him to ease the sting, and then read to Farmkid for a couple of
hours altogether. Oh I also took a walk with the dog and found a hawk
feather, that was neat, if sweaty.
There’s a window A/C unit in the guest bedroom window courtesy of the
sister from Maryland who brought hers up having had her central air
repaired, and I’m using it largely for the novelty, but IDK if it’s
actually necessary; the microburst cooled it down to about 90 but pumped
the humidity up even higher so that you sweat standing perfectly still, but
it’s dark now and should be cooling off… pff tonight’s low is 75, I’m not
turning that off. Not worth it.
I have an enormous window A/C unit sitting in my attic, which was so large
we didn’t bother setting it up most years. I should bring it, because then
there can be one in Sister’s bedroom window too and they can just leave
everything set up and not worry. The one I have is nice because you can
just use it as a fan, and I think there’s a setting where you can have it
switch over to just operate as a fan if the temperature drops to a certain
point. Anyway it’s got a remote control, it’s just heavy as shit and a pain
in the ass to move so I haven’t bothered yet. But I will, because it really
doesn’t need to be in my attic.
The drive across the state is annoyingly long. It’s long enough to really
immerse yourself in a thought, yeah, but then it’s so long you come out the
other side of that thought, and have to change the playlist, and then
meander back in, and wind up down a mental rabbit-hole to the point that
sometimes I forget which direction I’m driving and whether I’m going to
arrive at my house or at the farm, or if maybe I’m going to wind up
somewhere else entirely, and I forget who I am and what it was that I
wanted in life, and… you’d think zoning out would be nice, but I never
manage to lose any time to it, driving is absorbing enough (especially
today, good Christ, there are so many camper trailers on the road going
slow that you’re just constantly in a line of cars in the left lane trying
to pass an unreasonably slow camper being towed by an underpowered truck
and then another camper has to pass it and then there’s a double
tractor-trailer that wants to get over too and some Masshole is whipping by
at 95 but the camper’s doing fifty-eight and absolutely has to get past the
other camper doing fifty-five and you all just fucking sit there until you
all die, and then finally that clears up but then nobody from Ontario or
Ohio or Vermont has ever been told before that you’re supposed to keep
right except to pass so they’re all delighted to get out into the passing
lane so they can cruise at 72 and the Masshole who is trying to do 95
is *losing
his mind* and you by this point don’t remember who you are or where you’re
going but by all that’s holy, you sure haven’t zoned out for a single
moment of this drive, no sir you have been *completely fucking present in
your fucking body for every instant of it* because there is no reason for
any of this but here you are, here you all are, all of us, together, on
this fucking road, for some fucking reason) that you never lose a moment
and you’re aware of every *instant* that passes.
anyway. It wasn’t a pleasant drive, per se (pleasant is when nobody’s on
the road, which let me tell you, May and June were pretty fuckin’ sweet,
but alas, people are out and about again, and most of them have rented
campers for their getaways which is great and responsible insofar as
distancing and seclusion goes but let me tell you it sucks for traffic,
absolutely fuck that), but it did pass, and with this weather, it was just
as well to be inside the car. 300 miles is just short enough that I don’t
have to stop for gas, so I don’t; if I don’t bring a coffee with me, I
don’t have to stop to empty my personal tank either, so I do just fine. I
got a bit sleepy, today, but singing is good for that– pro tip, always have
an upbeat album you can sing along to
I got to the farm, parked my car, got out, realized it was 96 degrees and
at least 75% humidity, carried some things into the house, and then
realized not only was nobody present, but also the dog wasn’t present. I
went out and stood on the porch and heard voices, and followed them, and
presently discovered my sister, at least, and her daughter, and a friend,
in the creek under the highway overpass– yes, that’s where the swimming
hole is, it’s a lovely little secluded spot and gravel trucks go by at
55mph every 15 minutes on weekdays, roaring overhead, you don’t really even
notice it after a while.
[image description: the swimming hole under the overpass of NY Route 2. In
the background is the concrete foundation of the overpass next to the
greenery-covered bank of the Quackenkill, in the foreground is a
beautifully-eroded hunk of shale, upon which my sister is sitting in a pink
bathing suit and blue shorts with her sandal-clad feet in the water, and in
the mid-ground my niece is in a lifejacket in the deepest bit of the creek
which is just deep enough that if she picks her feet up she can float,
tucked up next to a big rock.]
Anyway since then I’ve soaked my feet in the creek, then taught Farmkid how
to sew, witnessed a microburst that destroyed two full days of haying work
by BIL (the baler was LITERALLY ENROUTE and he’d spent two days raking the
hay into windrows, and it was JUST ENOUGH rain (four hundredths of an inch)
that all of that will have to be redone– every rain fall leaches nutrients
from the hay, and hay absolutely cannot be baled even the slightest bit
damp or it will catch fire or mold into inedibility or both), had a shot of
rum with him to ease the sting, and then read to Farmkid for a couple of
hours altogether. Oh I also took a walk with the dog and found a hawk
feather, that was neat, if sweaty.
There’s a window A/C unit in the guest bedroom window courtesy of the
sister from Maryland who brought hers up having had her central air
repaired, and I’m using it largely for the novelty, but IDK if it’s
actually necessary; the microburst cooled it down to about 90 but pumped
the humidity up even higher so that you sweat standing perfectly still, but
it’s dark now and should be cooling off… pff tonight’s low is 75, I’m not
turning that off. Not worth it.
I have an enormous window A/C unit sitting in my attic, which was so large
we didn’t bother setting it up most years. I should bring it, because then
there can be one in Sister’s bedroom window too and they can just leave
everything set up and not worry. The one I have is nice because you can
just use it as a fan, and I think there’s a setting where you can have it
switch over to just operate as a fan if the temperature drops to a certain
point. Anyway it’s got a remote control, it’s just heavy as shit and a pain
in the ass to move so I haven’t bothered yet. But I will, because it really
doesn’t need to be in my attic.
