The Cunning Man

If we seek the pleasures of love, passion should be occasional, and common sense continual.
-- Robertson Davies

Monday, November 2, 1998
One year ago: Scorpions Unleashed

Jack sent me this story last night, just after I logged off and went to sleep. So I got it this morning, at work (posted here by permission):

I spent most of yesterday getting [the washer] took apart, but couldn't find the problem. This morning I worked on it some and gave up to go take care of some business .... Afterwards I came back and pulled the one part that could still be the problem (but which seemed impossible to get to), this hose that ran from the pump, through the back of the washer and connected to a fitting in the rear wall. Some skinned knuckles later I get it out and sure 'nuff: The hose is blocked by something!

Whatever it was had gotten through the pump and stuck in the middle of the hose. Not normal. So then I try to get it out. Nothing works. Finally I unbend some coat hangers and push them through the hose. Still no cigar, although I can force a little water through it now. Finally I get mad and blow into the hose as hard as I can. Four blows and nothing happens. Finally I take this huge breath without taking my mouth off the hose and whatever it is flies into the back of my throat :-P

I am choking! AAAAAACCKKK!! ACCCCKKK!! Like some cartoon character. Like a cat with a furball. I can't get it loose! It tastes horrible, like a huge wad of mold! I start to worry that I am going to die like this; they will find me on the floor of the bathroom with my face blue and a hose gripped in my lifeless hand...

Facing no other choice I do the only possible thing -- I swallow it.

Words cannot describe how nasty this was. Go ahead and try to imagine it. OK, now double whatever you imagined. Triple it. I tried to puke it back up, but it won't come. I swallow huge draughts of water and stick my finger down my throat. Still nothing. Finally I give up, calm down and put the washer back together. Something right in the world at last; it works.

This did make me laugh, although I hope Jack will be ok and not develop horrible allergies or a loathesome disease.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *    *

This was an extremely hectic day. I sincerely don't want my part of the project to be the part that causes us to slip, and not post to the web at the time we intend to! I really should have cut off the changes at an earlier time, but I didn't realize that there was another part to the posting process that will make it take longer than I expected. We had a group meeting in the afternoon and another team member walked in and said to me, "You look tired!" I replied that I wasn't tired, so much as stressed and bummed.

Tonight was the MS Bookclub meeting, to discuss Robertson Davies' "The Cunning Man." I think the bookclub is dissolving, unless we do some serious recruiting. The only longtime members present were Christina and I, and our total number was only four. I picked the place to meet, the Caffe Infinito at the Redmond Town Center. The cafe was very pleasant, with nice leather chairs and couches. The only drawback was the self-conscious elevator music they were playing, too loudly!

The book is really good, though it isn't the best thing Davies ever wrote. I always like his mixture of humor, wickedness, and erudition. Tom, one of the bookclub members, said he found the book very dense and tough going, but I didn't, though it is longer than most of his novels. None of us had brought books to choose from for next month, so I proposed that we walk down to Borders in the same mall, each browse and pick out a book, then we'd arm-wrestle to see what book to read. We followed this plan, leaving out the arm-wrestling part. We ended up choosing the book that Tom had proposed back at the cafe, something about a Bear playing jazz in New York.

I was really pleased to see a new reprinting of Angela Thirkell novels! She is one of my favorites, an English writer who set most of her novels in Barsetshire, the fictional county first chronicled by my fave Anthony Trollope. I think I'll have to buy the books, but they are a bit pricey at twelve or thirteen dollars a piece, for trade paperbacks!

*     *     *     *     *     *     *    *

I stopped back at work after the meeting, to try and take care of a few last-minute items. Most of what I can do has been done, though.

Check out Wally's Pyroboy page! He gave me a photo credit after only a small reminder, and I know the omission was inadvertant.