Why on earth am I back in New Orleans in July? Mostly to show solidarity with Sister Mary Legs in the Air who is drilling down through the house renovation, but mostly because I need to pick out some windows and other detritus at the architectural salvage place. I also want to take another run at antiques and, as always, I want some shrimp.
I got in late last night and somehow found myself up awake and at ’em early this morning, which is so very not my style. Since I needed supplies, I wound up hanging around outside the Walgreen’s for them to open along with a most colorful gang of lowlifes. It was like being on set at Warner’s between takes of some not-very-successful Bogart film.
Speaking of Not Our Sort At All, I flew Delta here and if you were wondering on which airlines people board without wearing their shoes (perhaps they didn’t understand they could put them back on after security, perhaps they just didn’t want to, perhaps they don’t have any. Who knows) I have the answer for you.
And now my thumb has started bleeding mysteriously, like some stigmata. I went over to the front desk for a bandaid and it’s telling that I stay here so much, I knew where they were when the clerk didn’t.
The temps and humidity combine to produce an ambience similar to a pot of water right before it boils. Dear god, it’s good to be home.