July 2, 2023—
Rachel was on the hunt for $6 rakes, so we circled a cinderblock building on Lake Avenue with a dental center and body shop. Facebook Marketplace said the Norton Flea Market exists, but no one had set out a sandwich board. Well, it is the July 4 weekend.
We shopped the unfamiliar Aldi next door, and dropped off plant pots, lightbulbs and a table at our new house. Rachel had attacked the kitchen and bathroom Saturday, the two high-stakes areas, awful to clean (caked grease, food—infestations?), with the potential big-ticket damage (a leak near the toilet). She bravely fished forgotten clothes out of the dryer (full of holes—mice?) for rags, and one T-shirt nice enough for running.
I screwed a lightbulb into a fan. The kitchen was welcoming.
In the evening, back to the dog-sit house for nachos and more King Kong (2005). Jimmy talks to First Mate Hayes (clip on YouTube) about “Heart of Darkness,” his copy nicked from the NYPL:
Jimmy: Why does Marlow keep going up the river? Why doesn’t he turn back?
Hayes: There’s a part of him that wants to Jimmy. A part deep inside himself that sounds a warning. But there’s another part that needs to know. To defeat the thing which makes him afraid.
“Let us be lovers, we’ll marry our fortunes together.
I’ve got some real estate here in my bag.”
—”America,” Simon and Garfunkel
Photo: Rachel’s idea to take a picture of the house through the rainy windshield while we waited for a downpour to slack. Also pictured, an obligatory hiding-from-the-rainstorm kiss.
