Spring Waxing Awakening Moon
The grout doctor has sealed the grout and left the house. His van has a license plate that reads, The Doc. After he finished, Byron from Dorglass came. He installed the new door for the steam bath. Now there’s new, clean grout and properly sealed door. I still have to wait until tomorrow morning to use it, but the process has gone full circle. There’s something about having strangers in the house, even if you like them and even if they’re doing something you requested. It jars the sense of sanctuary.
Now the calm has returned. Well, almost. A fan blows to circulate the noxious fumes from the caulk out of doors and I have the patio door open with the screen. Smells like spring and like an oil refinery. As you drive into Denver, Colorado from the east on Highway 70 you pass through a town named Commercial City. It consists of oil refineries, warehouses, train depots, all manner of smudgy grimy. Each time I pass it I wonder if the original purpose was to stick all that stuff in one municipality where they wouldn’t be bothered by residential zoning.
The legislative updates and requests to sign on or shout no various things has increased, a symphony of participation that will not reach its full crescendo until the adjournment sine die in May.
