Bike Commuter report:

This morning on my way to work I came up behind a guy who had a sock stuck on his butt. He had a velcro closure pocket on the derriere of his shorts, and a white sweat sock dangling from the velcro, swinging back and forth. After a minute I decided this was probably something grabbed from the laundry basket, rather than an innovative visibility device — after all, the sock wasn’t orange — and since I was passing him anyway, I figured I’d let him know. ‘Hey, you’ve got a sock attached to your shorts.’

He look a little surprised, but then he was behind me. At the next light, though, he caught up to me and said,

‘Thanks, I was looking for that sock all morning.’

I’m going to take a moment here to be a total 1950s housewife. That means glorifying two things: cooking and cleaning. Specifically the accessories that go with them.

The last week I got two special items especially for my domestic career.

Exhibit 1: Magical breadpan, made in France.

The bread is in the pan, and you want to get it out, so…

you unspring the pan! It’s magic!

It’s also longer than the other breadpan I have, so I can make bigger bread.

Exhibit 2: Brand new vaccuum, from Sears.

It’s new. It’s not broken. It’s in good working order. If it breaks it’s under warranty and they’ll fix it or replace it. It’s pretty and green. And, most especially, it is bagless, so we never have to figure out where to get more bags, or what size bags or anything.

And the dustbin cannister is clear, so we can see all the crud that is no longer in our carpet, which is just that much cooler. As you can see from the giant dust poodle collected from about six square feet of our carpet, we all three have long hair, plus there’s a cat.

It’s so exciting to have a new vaccuum cleaner. I’ve never had a new vaccuum cleaner before. Well, actually I’ve purchased one before, but I didn’t get to use it. This one is mine to have and to hold until it breaks after the warranty is out.

It will come as no surprise, to my mother at least, that I spent nearly the entire day in bed, reading a book. This was my preferred activity through most of childhood. The cats loved me.

What I read today was the last three hundred-odd pages of The Brothers K, by David James Duncan. The first half took me a while to get into, because it’s a lot about baseball, and childhood with baseball, and my childhood didn’t include baseball (see above). The second half, though, made me cry, and reminded me that the complications of my life are miniscule, and that words cannot express how grateful I am that my lover, though sent away, is not sent away as a soldier.

I read a couple books about Vietnam in high school. I remember hushed voices talking about Vietnam vets when I was in grade school. It’s a lot more horrible when you’re in love with someone of a draftable age and can suddenly frame it as something that could happen in your life.