Monday, June 10, 2002
Picking Cotton Out of My Teeth
Not a whole lot going on today, other than the torrential downpouring of rain I saw at work and on the way home. You know you live far from work (over an hour's drive) when you get hit with two major tsunami's on the way, you get home and your driveway is still dry. And then you get nailed with another bucket of rain.
At least this rain should put an end to the damn cottonwood trees or dogwood or ragweed or whatever the hell the name is for the tree that spits cotton into the air. It's been snowing this shit for a week now. And I mean snowing. It even piles up on the edges of stuff. Grass. Parking lots. Wherever. You'll be walking along, and it will just start snowing this crap. You don't even need to see the tree, because evidently they're invisible, or they live 20,000 feet in the air on some floating Laputa island, or exist just on the other side of a very windy interdimensional gate or something. I have yet to actually witness a tree shedding these cotton seeds. You'll just be walking to lunch, minding your own business, talking to your friends, and whammo. Mouth full of cotton.
After sitting here staring at the flashing prompt for fifteen minutes, I realzied that I need to start taking notes at work. I'm constantly thinking to myself "oh, hey, now would be a good time to write about that really cool connection you made between those two other things," or other less vague topics. And I have to tell myself, "no, we're at work now, which is for working. We'll blog when we get home." And then we forget what it was we were going to say. Which is unfortunate, because this whole "we" thing implies that there's more than one person upstairs in my attic, and neither one of them seems to be able to keep track of things very well.
Maybe I should hire an assistant for them or something.