Saturday, April 29 2000
All day I was working on the house, completely motivated by the goading, pleading and chastising of Kim. In the morning we started out with a big grocery errand to the hippie co-op organic supermarket of Santa Monica. It's one of those loci of concentrated liberal guilt distinguishing itself as a great place for enterprising bums to panhandle.
On the way home, we stopped at a lawn furniture store to buy some outdoor seating. I've been out of the factory-fresh lawnchair market since the 70s, and I had no idea that this stuff (which we casually leave out in the rain) had become so expensive. With our two new chairs each costing about as much as a low-end mountain bike, we felt the need to chain them to heavy objects on our front stoop.
Next we went on a run to the hardware store for all sorts of necessary odds and ends: an $11 handsaw, a $30 cordless drill, three $11 12 by 1 by 72 inch wooden planks, a shower curtain rod, nine steel shelf-support Ls, a 900 MHz two-line cordless phone, six feet of black chain and the smallest Master lock on the market. For much of the rest of the afternoon, I found myself putting up shelving in the "pantry," a large closet just off the dining room.
But the work wasn't over yet. Next we walked up to Wilshire to pick up six framed prints from a calendar depicting the merry goings on from the life of Vishnu and friends. These were to be hung in the healing room, and it would soon be on me to hang them.
We rented The Sixth Sense tonight at the Ohio Avenue Blockbuster (about a block away). The acting, especially that of the young supporting actor, was remarkably good, though he sort of came across as a shrunken adult with his style of performance. Once I'd learned the "secret" of the movie, I wanted to go back and watch it again to see if the scenes supported the creepy reality underlying the bulk of the movie.
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