There’s that song she covered–I think it was originally Bob Geldof with Boomtown Rats, but I don’t want to Google it–about the kid who shoots the other kids because s/he doesn’t “like Mondays”. Not that I’m shooting anyone. The arthritis in my trigger finger has put paid to that. (Don’t tell thieves, Jehovah’s Witnesses, or solicitors.)
But it’s Monday and I don’t want to be this day’s bitch. Then I think “who ever gave a day a power over a person anyway? Why would I be a day’s bitch?” and then I think “but it was a fun turn of phrase, right? right?”
The book I’m reading now has used the word “mendicant” three times in the first 20%. You can tell it was written by a lawyer in his spare time, because pretty much everyone else says “beggar”.
I’m fascinated with the idea of sleeping on modes of travel. I think it’s because the most restful sleep I’ve ever had was in our motor home when I was a child. The engine block was this great big carpeted hump between the driver and co-pilot seats at the front of the camper. There was a place to mount a table there, but one time we had to take the carpeted cover off and the table never got put back on. So like any good Kat, I’d curl up there and sleep while we drove. It heated up nicely and had a great big loud purr like a mother’s 800-horsepower womb. I just now realised as I was writing this that maybe that’s why I’m fascinated with transit sleep. But anyway, I am. In the aforementioned mendicant-proliferated book, the dude sleeps on his Gulfstream IV (apparently the mendicants are not him) and that got me thinking so I googled “beds on airplanes” and actually spent 40 minutes looking at…beds on airplanes. Do you know how big of a deal this has become? Pretty much all the airlines are vying in competition over business travelers and so they’re all putting sleeping quarters on their overseas-routed jets. Of course I have no idea why they haven’t been doing this all along. It’s like society spent 75 years actively ignoring Pullman Cars in an effort to pretend that rail travel was this crippled neighbour child who never fit in and couldn’t play in the big leagues. Now it’s like they all had to go to a math tournament and the crippled neighbour child turned out to be a prodigy who could win them the math cup. The analogy fell apart there. But whatever. Now there are beds on planes and everyone at slashdot and geek.com are just “wow! this is genius” and the rest of us who actually saw Murder On The Orient Express are all “they all killed him together! It was a plot!” and “oh yeah! People slept in beds like this on trains for decades, you dorks!”
Maybe my other fascination with transit sleep is that this is the second night in a row that pain and coughing and coughing pain have kept me wide afreakingwake. I look at pictures of beds with the same naked longing that a starving dog has when they pass a butcher’s window. Even though there aren’t that many butchers anymore. I think butchers are like the Pullman Cars of the grocery business. Especially when you consider that the word “grocery” used to be “greengrocery” and mean vegetables. Anyway, maybe someday the airlines will rediscover the joys of handcut meats and butchers will be back in fashion. Then again, the airlines have already had their shot at the meats world. Well, poultry anyway…that’s how we got the ridiculous Airline Chicken Breast which is actually a breast with a wing attached.
Oh well. I have to let Gus back inside now. I have to feed him Dogfood chicken which is actually chicken with horse attached.