Garrett (garote) wrote,
Garrett
garote

La on the east coast, day 3

I woke up this morning with an itchy stomach. This didn't surprise me, because I'd seen a poison oak rash there a few days ago. Perhaps it was coming back. I undressed for the shower and bent to inspect the rash, and there wasn't one ... instead I found a tick.

I haven't had a tick bite me in at least ten years. Seen a few crawling around, and dispatched them with extreme prejudice ... but none had succeeded in taking my blood. This one was obviously trying, but doing a sloppy job of it. The site was just beneath my belt loop and though the wound was abnormally large, the tick was only barely inside it. He had probably been knocked around and abraded all day by my clothing.

Well good. I was angry. I was glad it had a difficult time. I was too angry, in fact, to extract the tick properly, with any of the half-dozen good methods I could have used. I just grabbed the little bastard and yanked him out. Then I took my shower and sprayed down the wound.

Then I read a few web pages about Lyme disease, just so I could be aware of any symptoms that might appear.

Then came a loooooong afternoon and evening of music tomfoolery. I took a break from that to wander out on the back porch and use the camera.



You know those old shops - there's one in every town - where the junk is piled high on the shelves, and the shelves seem to go back into the darkness forever? Where the junk is so dense that it becomes an indistinct mass, and you need to get up really close to each item before you can tell what it is? And even then you may not know... So you hold it up to ask the wizened old man at the front desk, and he just cackles at you.

Wandering back among the shelves, a particular item catches your eye. There's something strange about it, something unsettling ... something magical. You just have to buy it, and the crazy old man sells it cheap. You walk out into the daylight examining your strange new possession and suddenly realize that you have no receipt, so you turn around ... but see only a blank wall. The shop has vanished. The cackling of the old man echos on the wind...

Weird Stuff Warehouse is like that. I didn't know they sold white magic boards! But in obvious violation of the rules, the shop hasn't yet vanished in a puff of smoke. I wonder what kind of spooky eldritch rites I can peform with this board. Does it summon demons if I put it in a PCI slot?

Anyway, I took that photo and then put the board into a plastic sack, along with two dozen other boards. I hauled this on my back to the Saturn and showed the cards to my waiter when I was done with dinner.

"I thought these might look nice arranged under one of the transparent tabletops here," I said.
"That is a great idea," he said. "The managers will be here until 4:00pm tomorrow. You should definitely call them and ask."
"Okay, I will."

Then I hauled the sack back home, websurfed, went for a walk, chatted with La ... and went to bed.
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