Whimsy

This evening, I made a couple of mad dashes outside. Once, I realized I hadn't yet taken the COH garbage can out to the curb, so .. whoooooosh! I manhandled the can past the shrubs and off of the loose rock upon which it sits, and lumbered it out to the curb. I was #7 tonight. I need to get some numbers for it, or some paint or something, so I can mark it as my own.

Later, Jackie arose from her deep slumber on my bedroom floor to announce it was time for her evening constitutional. We headed down the steep stairs, and went around the back side of the patio homes. As we went southeast, the huge KBR complex across the street, it was apparent that the rain bands Guy had been speaking of were about to spill their drops on our neighborhood. The wind had kicked up a bit, and I was delighted with a plastic bag - so familiar to us, this one from a Chinese restaurant, just from the gauge of the plastic and the design printed on the side - floated in a whimsical cyclone of its very own. Around, and up, and back, and around and down it went.

As I approached it, my presence disturbed the delicate balance of air currents, and the bag began to move in lurching, distressed patterns. It finally started trying to jerk away from my outstretched hand but I caught it, ending the demonstration of the wisps of disturbed air.

It, and the Dr. Pepper bottle I had picked up earlier, went into the neighbor's trash can. They were going to be #8, it seems.