Homebody

Last night, Friday, I headed down to Philadelphia for First Night with the Baron. The weather was beautiful, we were early enough to still get some of the free wine, the streets and galleries were packed, buskers on every corner. The Baron and I visited home furnishing stores (apparently Philadelphia is all about Modern... go figure!), and enjoyed a latte and cigar for me and a doppio con pane and chocolate graham cracker for the Baron at a conveniently located Starbucks. It rocked.

Well, except for one little thing.

I wanted to be home! There was wood to chop! There's a garage to clear out! I need to get mums in! The bathrooms need cleaning! I have laundry! I need to arrange my books in my bookcases in my great room!

And today, Saturday.

I was thinking of heading down to the Bike Stop tonight. Uh uh. I got a solid eight hours sleep. This morning I started in. I did a major cleaning of my bathroom. Then it was all about unpacking boxes.

Great news! I found my marmite! Wohoo! Good cookin' to come!

And all my books are unpacked. In piles. The philosophy pile, science and cultural criticism pile, the SM pile, the poetry pile, the British and Irish fiction pile, the American fiction pile, the drama pile. And then the pile of Books That Changed My Life. What might those titles be? Well...

Here's the list...

• The Boys of Summer by Roger Kahn
  
• Iron John by Robert Bly
  
• The Varieties of Religious Experience by William James
  
• The Illusion of Technique by William Barrett
  
• The End of History and the Last Man by Francis Fukuyama
  
• Revolt of the Masses by Ortega y Gassett
  
• Civilisation and Its Discontents by Sigmund Freud
  

I took a shower (in my nice new clean bathroom), and then headed out to the supermarket for shopping. I got home, and fixed pork chops, sauerkraut, and buttered noodles for my father.

And there's still stuff to do. I'm taking a brief break to blog, but then I'm gonna get back at it. If I feel like it, I'll head down to the Raven in New Hope for a beer and a cigar.

I am loving this. My home is so nice and clean. I'm gonna be chopping up cord after cord of wood to keep us warm this winter.

Okay. What's up with this?

Was there some weird Stepford Wives implant? Is my father spiking my morning Yorkshire Gold tea with Wellbutrin? Is it the swift approach of 40?

¿Que pasa?

A few short weeks ago, if I had to spend a Friday night here at home, I counted that as a Friday night wasted. Now, having to leave the house pisses me off a little bit.

My goal is to have everything taken care of before next weekend. Y'see, if the Mayor of San Francisco doesn't intervent, Sir will be in NYC, so we'll get some more time together. That'll be tricky as tomorrow I'll need to head to NYC for a meeting of GMSMA's Spirituality Special Interest Group. Looking forward to that. Only. Y'know. It means leaving the house.

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