This ice block takes up too much floor space but I’m not concerned with that right now because there’s too much wall space in our new pad. What shall we hang over the couch? What sort of picture, what sort of mood? Thong montage? Flash macrophage? Beat spume? Baby bib?
What does any of this mean? It seems like I’m always searching for that fresh gift idea. Now the holidays have passed. The pipe’s gone out. I’m alone in my chair flipping through my catalog. It’s a little sad. Dusty and cold.
Hue control design. Next page. Electrochromic speakers. Next page. Dust bag art. Next page. Bubblegum emboss.
What does any of this mean? Am I just goofing around until next Sunday? A small sizzle accompanies some of that electrochromic speaker juice melting on the bar cart, fries all the components, makes the pages wet. Now there’s nothing left to do but watch the ice block melt. I hope it melts soon. We can finally reclaim the floor space once it does. I’ve spent too much time worrying about the wall; too much time flipping through my catalog trying to find the perfect gift. I have nothing to celebrate.
Nothing happening. I’m sitting down. But still I manage to trip over the ice block. Now the catalog needs a band-aid.