2012-08-31

monk111: (Sugar)
2012-08-31 09:29 am

the dryer again

I'm going to have to get behind the dryer again. The duct tape won't hold onto the soft piping that is supposed to lead the hot air outside. It's a little puzzling because the old duct-tape solution worked well enough the first time we applied it, lasting us over a year.

I still have a plan. The tape does stick to the dryer itself, and I'm thinking that it might work if I just strap the end that is supposed to stick on the piping, maybe tying it down with shoestring. It's worth a shot. But when, but when? I still have to find the time to scrub my toilet clean.
monk111: (Effulgent Days)
2012-08-31 10:41 am

Shit, this was the morning to mow!

Shit, this was the morning to mow! I just wasn't thinking.

The big problem was that I just mowed last Thursday, I think, and surely the lawn could be left alone for another two, three days. But when I went outside to water the elephant ears, I saw that the sky was still heavily clouded and overcast, and I noticed that the grass really could use a cut, and lastly, the grass is perfectly dry!

Those heavy rains of a couple of weeks ago really did a job. Alas, the sun is coming out now and it is much too late. Question: is there any chance that tomorrow morning will be like this morning?
monk111: (Gabe Two)
2012-08-31 01:37 pm

"Source Code"

Oh, good! Another time-recursion movie. "Source Code". A guy gets to keep living the last six minutes (or is it eight minutes?) of another guy's life in order to unravel a terrorist attack. I think I've already figured out a key plot-point. Our protagonist is probably already dead himself, or in a coma, and that's why he can take on this role. It doesn't matter that I figured this out early. This sort of movie obvioiusly still has a hold on my imagination. Maybe I like being teased with the notion that I am just living in a time-bounce myself, and I will get another shot at this thing, even if there doesn't seem to be much leeway to give me a real chance at realizing something better. Again, it doesn't matter. It's a pleasantly haunting thought.