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Wednesday, February 16, 2005
The Better The Weather...
Happily, the weatherman is wrong. We were supposed to get more rain. Not happening. Bright sun and the temp outside is 82 degrees Fahrenheit.
The effect on the yellow apartment dwellers is comical. They must have decided to spruce up their frontage. Everyone has some kind of cleaning related implement or rag. Each of the women has her hair tied up in a towel. What that's for, I don't know, maybe the idea was to keep dust from spoiling their "do". No cleaning is taking place, though; the only dust is whatever just naturally floats in the air. The ground is covered with litter; junk lies everywhere. Whole lotta bustle and hustle, laughing and snapping wet rags and popping one's fellow inmate over the butt with a broom. Several buckets of water stand ready for some forgotten purpose.
I was watching this show from a ringside position on my porch when a neighbor came out onto his next door porch and sat waiting for a friend to pick him up. We watched together in silence for a few minutes. Finally the neighbor turned and looked at me. I didn't say anything; he didn't say anything. He just shook his head. We watched again silently. Then his ride came. Standing to go, he turned to me once more and growled out the side of his mouth, "The better the weather, the worse they is."
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