14 Pineapples for Flexible Festivals, Classic Bedding, and Cumbersome Pieces of Furniture

So listen, it's hard to keep up three blogs.
No complaints; I'm just saying.

I don't do it often, but I may need to do it today. That is, post about the daily klip-klop of my talky-talky life. [sidenote: "Klip-klop" is the sound I think my shoes make...or, like, when I'm thinking about myself walking-- which I suppose doesn't really come up that often-- that's the sound I internally narrate. It's inner voice chosen, so I take no responsibility for inaccurancy. You know, if you're thinking back about some incident, and you hear your footfalls on the soundtrack either mixed with words-- or not-- usually preceding an entrance into a new room or an entirely new building. Although... I tend to think of my running footfalls as click-click/click-click, even though I don't *usually* wear tap shoes on runs. But I do find the sound of tap shoes to have this haunting allure. okay, shhhh, anyway...]

So I have this strange blueberry-flavored hangover right now, and well, I don't even know what that means.

Yesterday, I went to an Earth Day fair. You may be thinking, "But Earth Day is on June 14th." This is true. However, I learned at this fair, which was officially titled "The Earth Day is Every Day Fest" that Earth Day is every day, which can be roughly translated to "the common was already booked on June 14th."

I did not intend to go to The Earth Day is Every Day Fest. In fact, I left my house to drive aimlessly and drain the week out of my body. And really, what's a better way to do that than free organic granola, a coffee tasting booth, a man with a guitar and no singing ability, and totebags made out of recycled trashbags (soda cans? newspapers? yarn? I don't know, but they were definitely a fright). So, yea, i drank my coffee and ate my granola and listened to the awful singing man. And I bought a necklace.... white beads, because it was sunny out and decided it would look nice when I get tan.

And then I was inspired to go to a store and purchase a white duvet cover that looks like it was stolen from Laura Ingalls. I should not allow these "modes" I get into justify purchases; although, better that I buy the duvet cover when I'm in Laura Ingalls mode, as opposed to, say, Tara Reid mode. Not that ever I get in Tara Reid mode, but, you know, simple classic white has a better chance at looking nice than, for example, hot pink with black lace and rhinestones. And, honestly, Tara may have a very nice duvet cover, for all I know. Perhaps simple white. We may never know.

And now today, my challenge is to pick up a 7-foot cherry bookshelf, fit it (assembled) into my car, which is definitively not bigger than a breadbox, and then carry it into my apartment. This task will be performed with one working knee. If I have extra hands (which I can't imagine why I wouldn't), I'll take pictures of the endeavor. It's certain to be a lesson in flawless elegance.


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