Evanescent Epiphany

Burnet Park. Three vehicles roll down the hill. They stop, lined up as in a parade. Amber lights flashing atop the vehicles. Hard-hatted people emerge. Three Kings? Three Queens? Two Jacks and an Ace? They walk up to lightpoles. A polar eclipse? An elliptical polarity? They are fussing with extension cords. They are here to de-light the park of holyday hollyday holiday illuminations. I head home. I stop. I turn back, facing lightward, waiting for proof of my ruminative illuminative de-lighting delightful theory without recrimination. An epiphany in reverse, as it were, as it was, as it ever shall be. The dog tugs. The lights are still on. Homeward. Eponymous day night eve ever everyes.

Order Out of Disorder

Had some success this weekend in the Order vs. Disorder Department. I tackled Mount Sweaterest, as referred to in a recent post. I kept true to my word, pretty much, and tended to my side of the street, or mountain, in this case. What I mean is:

1. I disassembled the pile and laid it all out on the bed, to get an inventory.
2. My Spouse was working, so I could not rant or point fingers even if i wanted to. Besides, that would not be very Zen-lke now, would it?
3. Results: Approximately 78.9% of the articles of clothing were hers, not mine. No matter.
4. Part of the, um, problem is that the edifice no longer consisted of sweaters only: sweat pants, t-shirts, a sports bra or two, pajamas, and one pair of undies somehow crept onto this cloth column.
5. No matter.
6. I got into it, in a binge fashion. I took two bags of my stuff (including some very nice sweaters, a very warm and thick sweatshirt, pajamas, etc.) to the Rescue Mission. I threw out a bag of my clothes. It was time for them to go. Very purgative. No, i did not commit the suicidal act of throwing out any of her clothes.
7. In doing so, I freed up space in my bureau. I did not have to buy any new shelves after all. Very minimalist, just like the experts said.
8. Yes, the problem is me.
9. Very rewarding. What will be my next target?

I have no illusions, though. This is all part of my binge nature. On the same day, I did four of five loads of laundry, went shopping, walked the dog, did dashes, and took a brief nap.

I capped the day by attending a rather good rendition of "Hamlet" by the Syracuse Shakespeare Festival. Mark Allen Holt, playing the eponymous character, was especially good.

Never before had I viewed "Hamlet" as such a telling example of self-will run riot.

Oh, and I (and possibly a fellow in back of me) was the only person to chuckle at Glamourpuss's favorite dirty line, when Hamlet, lying in Ophelia's lap, saucily asks her if she thinks he was speaking of "country matters." (I probably would've ignored it, were it not for this fellow blogger's alert to it. We are all about haute couture here.)

A full day.