Fortunes Tied To Decline.

Saturday the 14th

As far as days that were completely fucked up I thought yesterday really swung for the fences, but that was, however, before I was even 2 hours into today.

Starting with yesterday we always have life's minor pit-falls and I have certainly had mine at the workplace. I've spoken about the place before and the creatures that inhabit it. They are animals, subhumans at best and although attorneys at law each and every one, I am, however, absolutely convinced that such a distinction can be purchased on the internet for a high enough price. Like Monaco citizenship in a way, but not quite that dear.

Since the things cannot be trusted to behave in an even moderately civilized manner for any extended period of time despite the number of emails they are bombarded with the office must resort to draconian policies to literally keep the place in compliance with work and safety regulations. Like the periodic bi-annual break-room refrigerator cull that took, as one of its helpless victims, an absolutely delicious piece of ultramarine vintage Tupperware and incidentally also a completely scrummy vegan pasta salad that wasn't bothering anyone. Certainly not the 3 month old Sabra humus I placed it next to. I'm still processing it all.

Later that day, and we are still on yesterday mind you, which happened to be one of the hottest days of the year, I am reminded of an email notice I received regarding one of my library holds arriving at central circulation. Positively thirsting for a break in the tedium of the day and trying to put the unsettling business of the vintage ultramarine Tupperware behind me I flounced to the library to retrieve my book where I am instantly presented with a tome of gobsmacking ponderous size. I didn't think anyone was capable of writing a book of such size.

I've read The Queen Mother's Official Biography that approaches a thousand pages. My Pepys diary is two volumes of well over 1500 pages, but this thing was positively massive. I had no idea how I was going to get the beast back up Bunker Hill, but I managed eventually only slightly exacerbating some lingering tendonitis in my wrist and some RSI.

Once I catch my breath on flat ground I look at this thing that I am holding in both of my hands which could actually be bound by the flesh of virgins and no one would be the wiser and I open it and am immediately presented with pages of text that don't look unlike eye-charts. I could read these pages from across the street! I then realize that I must have reserved the large print edition.

Back at my desk in the cage with the animals I confirm that I indeed did reserve a copy of Julian Fellowes' Belgravia for someone apparently with congenital blindness and am then reminded how these things come in threes. I am instantly taken by chill at the thought, but brace myself with the knowledge that in any sane and just world the fact that the ultramarine vintage Tupperware was part of a set should count as the third calamity. I really am still processing.

___________________________________________________

But the world waits for no man and seldom even pauses for any calamity except for the death of Princess Diana which almost kind sorta actually bordered on alien intervention of some kind. Anyway, here it is Saturday and I have already walked to the launderette which was closed even though it should have been open, but given that I know what goes on up in there the fact of it being closed chills me to my very core so I do not linger no.

I go back to my place to gather myself and some more money because I can not reckon the prices of the next launderette and I just need a pause lets face it this is bullshit. So after going to the new launderette three whole long blocks from my place I immediately realize that I do not have enough change so I feed a machine my singles that gives me three quarters for each one I insert and I think what an insane racket, but nice deterrent.

I quickly realize that I do not have enough change for even the one load I had so not wanting to waste 20 dollars on what I suspect would be $15 worth of quarters I scoot to 7-eleven to buy some shit I don't need and break a twenty. Once back at the launderette I feed a fiver into the machine. While waiting for what I hope is $3.75 in quarters I notice a sign that reads: The machines in this facility do not need quarters. If you need to do laundry please use a VDT card available at the kiosk.

What In The Complete Absolute Are You Shitting Me Fuck?

Why is this machine here? Why is it in a place that ordinarily takes quarters? Why does it actually only give 75 cents for every dollar? I mean why?

It takes a moment for what happened to register. I not only had a shit ton of quarters and nothing to spend them on, a backpack full of laundry I needed to wash, a shitty coffee I did not want to buy, but there was now a machine telling me I had to insert a credit card and I am standing in a place I would never dream of coming to with my wallet so I figured laundry is just not for today. I brushed myself off as best I could and told myself that this must be why the Founding Father Jesus put two days in the weekend. Praise be.

While walking back to my place I raise the scalding hot cup of coffee to my mouth when I hear this unGodly screaming coming from behind the fence I am walking along. I am shaken by the screaming, but this is LA so I just pretend like this shit happens all the time which it sorta does. As I approach the intersection the screaming comes again, and that is when I notice the Hindi in the middle of the intersection. Walking to determined points in the intersection then raising his hands and then shouting to the sky.

Why the fuck is there a Hindi shouting at the sky? I ask almost aloud, but more importantly Why the fuck does this shit always happen to me? I just shake my head and go back to my place trying not to further burn anything with this coffee.

By the time I am back to my place the coffee is almost cold. I put my things away in hopes that I can try all of this tomorrow morning. On my way in I notice that the city had replaced my recycle bin so I took an overflowing bag from my kitchen out the back door, down the garden path and onto the patio where the bins are, but just as I almost reach my destination I am ensnared, enmeshed, completely covered in a gossamer film that could only be one thing. A MOTHERFUCKING SPIDER WEB!!!

I howl, shake, rub every portion of my body, run inside, strip and shower myself down like Meryl Streep in Silkwood, think of burning the clothes I had been wearing, but catch myself and simply place them in a plastic bag and seal it, then I place that plastic bag inside another plastic bag and I seal that and then I place that bag inside of a Rubbermaid and then I tape the Rubbermaid shut with duck tape, then I walk the Rubbermaid out to the back porch and put it outside far far away from Shelob's mother fucking nest a place I will never never go to again and there it can rest until I move out which after today, Saturday September 14, 2019 is going to be really fucking soon.