So now it's 6:30 and I feel lazy, sleepy, and unmotivated. But I think the drywall mud is dry now so I can sand that down and prime the newly mudded spots. Then I'll look outside to see what I might do for paint scraping on the porch. And lastly, consider walking to Prospect Park to refute the doubters. Never challenge a crazy Finn, huh?
It was good to talk to Jim yesterday afternoon, but it makes me a little homesick. I think at the moment, the pollution down here bothers me the most. My hives are flaring up and making things quite uncomfortable.
Until later...
I go home in four hours or so and I think that I'm excited. All of my things are packed except for the computer. I went to sleep before 8:00 PM and now I am awake after using the bathroom, trying to figure out what to do.
I finished painting the first floor, front room ceiling and despite my overly critical eye, I think that things turned out well. I rearranged things in the living room (I still need to damp mop the floor) and I really like how things look. When I return, the porch is the next big project and I wrote to Cathy about possibly rebuilding the bulkhead door in the back.
Waiting for paint to dry is boring as many old sayings indicate. I sat on the stoop reading a book and two young Hispanic boys approached the house. The shorter one held a soccer ball, the taller one tailed after him. I saw adults up near the corner watching the young men.
The boys stopped at my car. The shorter boy yelled angrily in Spanish and leaned against my car. His facial expressions conveyed a much older, mature argument and I speculate that he was aping an adults lack of emotional control. Telling a story, maybe, of what his reality is. The taller boy had a deaf ear and took the yelling without reacting. The short boy yelled.
Eventually, the taller boy sat on my car hood, swinging his feet, unaffected. He eventually moved closer and sat on my passenger door mirror. At this point, I looked intently at the boys. The short boys eyes widened, he stopped. I shook my head side to side, NO, and I pointed to my sitting posture. The short boy asked with his eyes, 'Your car?' I replied and pointed to my chest, nodding, YES, and I made a steering wheel motion.
The short boy changed his tune and yelled the message to the tall boy, 'Don't sit on that man's car!' The tall boy's eyes locked into mine. I looked at him and repeated my gestures. They both moved away from the car, eyes wide, looking at me. I mouthed 'Gracias, thank you.' And shortly the boys awkwardly returned to the corner where the adults were.
In a few minutes, they returned. The short boy took the soccer ball on a folding chair and he parked his chair on the sidewalk near my car, looking at me from time to time. I didn't react. Eventually, the boys tired of waiting for a reaction so they returned to the corner.
After I ate, I went to the park, but they boys scattered by that time. I sat on a wall in the park, overlooking the rivers and I saw New Jersey and the Statue of Liberty in the hazy background. A stiff wind that brings cooler, dryer temperatures blew briskly in my face. I watched lazily hundreds of people move about the park playing soccer, pushing baby strollers, talking, laughing, and just enjoying the moment.
I walked home to beat the impending rain. I moved some pieces of wood to my trunk and made eye contact with the Asian man of the house next to me. It looked as though he worked all week and his expression showed that he wanted to make friends with me.
Packing was easy as I have natural motivation to return home. I like it here. It's exciting and my thoughts are to ask my cousin to move here for a year with me. But I miss home. I'd like to sleep not on this cot, but on my own bed with my cats tangled about the bed at my feet.
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