The mower is close, though.
Had - or am having - a good weekend. I intended to get a lot of cleaning done inside the house - it approaches a state of entropy really fast towards the end of a project at work. Years ago, back when Andy, Carolyn, Liz, Rog, and myself all lived in and around Boston, we had a weekly movie night which was often in my place, and it helped provide the incentive to keep my place clean.
Needless to say, time marches on.
I did manage to mow the lawn and do a tiny bit of weed-eater-ing. That's good. I printed out a 6 1/2 foot by 4 foot poster of Orlando Bloom. That's mischief. We'll see tomorrow how much my immediate supervisor appreciates it. We'll see how long it stays up in his office. Mental note: bring a camera to work.
I went dancing Saturday night - a place I don't usually go, which is good - meet new people, dance to different music, experience different social structures. The place I usually go gets two dozen people on a really popular night. I think that typical is closer to a dozen. Not big, certainly, but intimate. To the point where the DJ knows me well enough to play music for me without my having to actually request anything. He doesn't completely read my mind, but he's pretty good. Yeah, that's a little scary.
This place I went probably had a good 200 people - so that's different. And they were typically in their 60s, some in their 70s. Maybe. Perhaps I'm wrong, maybe it's 50s and 60s. In any case, not the hot single women a guy like me was hoping to dance with, by and large. However, there were probably 4 or 6 attractive women that were in their 30s (and one who was probably in her 20s). So that was nice. I'm not saying I don't appreciate the image of a 70 year old woman bouncing around to Hanson. Everybody enjoys that, right?
I was a little uncomfortable, though, at the phenomenon right at the beginning of a new song; a body of men (substantially white haired, of varying degrees of pudginess) would circle the area between the dance floor and the tables where people were seated, looking for their next dance partner. It reminded me a great deal of sharks looking for chum.
And, I'll admit, I probably participated in that phenomenon to some degree - I challenged myself to actually ask each of the women on that short list to dance at least once throughout the night. And I did, woohoo! And, having congratulated myself, I'll apologize for turning these women into a simple checklist. But hey, courage to ask women to dance, that's a good thing.
Another phenomenon that I found a little odd was that everybody on the dance floor was with a partner. Sure, we learned a little bit of West Coast Swing at the beginning, and people could be understood to want to try that out, and a number of the songs were selected for particular ballroom steps (oh, now I recall an exception - people danced the Electric Slide as you'd expect, in lines). But perhaps I've got an image of dances formed from a small sample size of high school dances, where many people could dance in an ill-defined group, or from dance clubs where people certainly don't do steps, they just move to the music. I somewhat expected that for some of the songs that weren't good ballroom candidates, that folks would simply take to the dancefloor and bounce around aimlessly.
I'm such the anarchist that way.
And I ponder the implications of the line from "Hitch", that women equate dancing with more intimate acts. What message am I broadcasting when I dance by myself?
Today, I intended to buy some bath towels, and got a little sidetracked. Oh, I got the towels, and quite a few handtowels and washcloths along the way. And I stopped by a local furniture store. Back when I had just moved to this area from Boston, I found a really interesting looking nightstand fashioned out of reclaimed wood from old houses or railroad trestles or the like. And, of course, there was a bunch of other furniture that I could have got at the same time, but I decided not to. And I kept thinking that I'd like a headboard / bedframe / something in the same style. But certainly 7 years later, they wouldn't still be making that line, would they? The salesman brought up my account, and found my original order, and yes, the people who made the nightstand were still making that line, and here's our binder of products.
I walked out of there having decided not to buy everything that the guy showed me, so that's a small triumph. But in 12 weeks, I should have a fancy new (but old-looking) bedframe delivered to me, and installed as well.
And, hopefully, I'll have the reason and wherewithal in the interim to order the chest of drawers that matches.
So domestic am I.