May 18, 2010
Misplaced Priorities
I just tried to fix a cup of tea without having filled the kettle with water. At the same time I came within half an inch of overfilling the bathtub and flooding the bathroom.
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comments:
- Joel Bernstein: I know right?
- Rick Neece: Being nice is a dainty way to put it.
- Rick Neece: Hey Cristopher? Who cried “uncle” first, at the end of your ten-year stand-off? To quote my...
- Michael Smith: Ours is the kitchen.
- Amy Mabli: That’s what happens when you give the dogs the bed.
- Deron Bauman: Sweet Jesus.
- Michael Smith: Don’t we all.
- Pam: I have a story coming out soon in a ‘little mag’, Chicago Quarterly Review. An old friend recently...
- Pam: And I thought, somedays, that my work was meaningless…
- Pam: I remember Eggleston at the Art Institute in Chicago a couple years ago. He was elegantly dressed in a dark suit...
- Christopher Walken: Hey Clusterflockers, Realize y’all are hurting. I’ve been a really close friend of my...
- Marco: This works pretty well in mobile, more so in iOS
- Michael Smith: It was not the intent of management to imply all sissies are “namby pamby”. Management was...
- Rick Neece: I take umbrage with the term “namby pamby.” Some sissies are fierce.
- Carole Corlew: Shelia. Happy no big deal day. I would start your very own post but this phone is in semi rebellion.
that’s a nice symmetry.
and there’s something that freaks me out about a blistering hot unfilled kettle, like it borders on the edge of something alchemical.
I think the two hemispheres of my brain are slowly separating.
I’m not sure my kettle would survive.
The word molten comes to mind. And then I imagine molten metal being swept about in a swirl of waters like something out of “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice”. It does feel alchemical.
Ummmnh, anyone care for a cup of bathwater tea?
yum.
This was an electric kettle, not a vessel seated on an actual flame, so there may have been some kind of shut-down mechanism at work.
But it was a trippy moment, glancing into the bathroom to see the tub just about topped-off as I was tipping a kettle from which no water poured.
still.
Dear clusterflock: bathwater tea or babypuke?
bathwater tea, please.
The kettle was trying to tell you about the bath but it couldn’t scream.
kind of like shoe champagne
Teakettle puppet show.
MIsplaced priorities: reading and commenting and posting on clusterflock when one is supposed to be researching and writing some forty page paper about TWEENS IN THE LIBRARY (also the title of my forthcoming YA fiction series)
Oh the paper’s due today, that’s why it’s such a bad idea.
why not get started procrastinating now.
Sounds like those Buddhists are back.
I love this, it’s beautiful.
It was magical — in a slowly separating left hemispherical/right hemispherical kind of way.
If I am going to lose it, this may be a lovely way to go.
BIG TIME.
Danny once forgot the tub filling upstairs. He was downstairs doing something computery or emaily and forgot the tub. He heard water sluicing in the living room which brought him into the moment. He called me at work to confess, nearly in tears. That was a few year ago. The house seems to be none the worse for wear for the flood. Sometimes I wonder, though, what keeps the tub, when full, from crashing down onto the dining table beneath it.
That is terrifying. I will never run the water in that house again. And I’ll leap from structural support beam to structural support beam to avoid death.
Amae! You’ve seen the tub. You know. Parkour skills would come into play. But fear not, there are extra beams beneath the tub. (As the captain on the Titanic might have said, “There’s an extra beam, there’s nothing to worry ’bout.”)
I can’t wait to see this tub! And Sheila, bathwater tea. Definitely.
Bathwater tea it is, then, for any of y’all as wants it.
Gin for me, please.