Every Garbage Bin...

...has a lining.

By mid-morning, I had had enough coffee and was motivated enough to clean. So I pulled the vaccum cleaner out of the closet, attached the rug attachment hoolie, and set out. It took me a little while before I noticed that it wasn't doing squat. Turning it over, I found that the agitator wasn't turning. Belt was intact and the shaft was spinning but it wasn't catching. Fan-bloody-tastic. So I grabbed the next best attachment and vacuumed two of the bedrooms. Done. Setting out to mop the floor, I opened a new thingy of disposable mop pads and gave it a go. No dice. They kept rubbing off. So I look at the directions and find that there are little slits in which to tuck the pad. I do so and try again. Although it took longer, it still slipped off. And so I found myself on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor. When that was done, I took a little coffee break and vacuumed the living room. It was shortly after this that I felt my frist bit of anger towards my father as part of my grieving process. It was triggered when I was scouring his bathtub. The thing was filthy! Having been alone for a couple days, I have started talking to myself and, as I scrubbed, some weird words were uttered from my lips. Something like: "Dad, I hope your keeping your bathroom down there in hell clean cuz I don't wanna have to scrub it." A moment later, I find a hair on the side of the tub and I immediately start thinking Jurassic Dad - I could save the hair and clone a new father. The technology is coming along nicely and we should be able to do so soon. (I dunno if that little bit of skin from the follicle was on it or not.) After my little Crichton-esque episode, I vacuumed a bit more and laid down for a short stretch.

Soon enough, it was time for me to shower as I had a two o'clock appointment with the lawyer. As I was combing my hair, I noticed that I really needed to shave as my face is getting scruffy. I also noticed that I had forgotten my razor. So I stopped and bought some cheapo disposables with which I shall cut up my face later. Also, I stopped at the coffeehouse and got me an iced mocha since it was 82F outside. There was one hottie there - a woman in her mid-to-late 30s but she was preparing to leave when I arrived.

My visit to the lawyer merely involved droping off some paperwork and asking a couple simple questions so I thought it would take 15 minutes, tops. It wasn't until around 4 that I left. However, I was correct in that the actual time we talked business lasted about 15 minutes while the other hour and 45 was spent chatting.

I think we started off with the Civil War. He claimed to have 400 books on the topic and proudly proclaimed that history was his avocation. He talked about various battles and described Antietam meticulously. Exactly which direction how many soldiers came, from what battleground they had marched, etc. The guy knew his Civil War. And I loved how he bandied about the term "Yankee". The Confederacy was comprised of "Southerners" while the Union was made up of "Yankees". At one point, he described how he recently got a new PC and bought a Civil War game. During one battle, his Confederate troops routed Union soldiers and the game announced something like, "The Confederacy has won. The North is brokering a peace deal." He told me that, when he heard the computer spout these sentences, it warmed his heart right up. He next talked about various Southern generals and the Confederate victory at Chacellorsville. I steered the conversation towards Sherman to remind him of what happened to Atlanta and that we Yanks won the war. He conceded this and told me of a particular brigade composed mostly of men from Wisconsin. Since they were a bunch of rednecks who actaully knew how to shoot a gun, the Southerners hated them. (I couldn't help but think of my roommate Pete, a redneck at heart, all decked out in blue.) We then talked about Islam and its relation to the West, various books on why the West is the dominant force in the world today. He referenced Guns, Germs, and Steel while I told him about The Wealth and Poverty of Nations. From there, it was a free-for-all. The Vikings, the Celts, the various ethnic groups in his home state of Missouri, the segregation here in Natchitoches, the influence of Roman Empire, Scotland's role in the Industrial Revolution, Latin, et al. I had a blast. It had been several days since I'd had so much intellectual stimulation. My brother and I have such conversations but we were too busy with the house when he was here. And I think he was pleasantly surprised to find a Yankee kid who knew some history. I could see the surprise on his face when I started naming some lesser-known Civil War battles like Chickamauga Creek. I told him that I had several years of Latin in school and we listed off as many Roman emperors as we could and talked about Julius Caesar as I mentioned that I had read his Gallic Wars in the original language.

His son, daughter-in-law, and grandson then came in and we were all introduced. They didn't stay long but long enough for me to eye-up the duaghter-in-law. She was a gorgeous brunette! (I thought of you, Ms. Happy Life, as she was married to a lawyer. Dunno if he's a heavy drinker or not.) After they left, the conversation about food continued. we both raked on English cuisine with its penchant for organ meats as well as the novelty of bratwurst down here. He gave me directions to a pecan plantation about 20 miles from here where I can get more culinary souvenirs. (The odds of me being able to actually save any chocolate-covered pecans over the course of a 17 hour drive over 2 days are not good, lemme tell ya.) Finally, he talked about his youth including wartime rationing and the various things you could get by sending in cereal box tops. As our conversation wound down, my cell rang but I let it ring through as he was in the middle of telling me about his family getting their first TV.

I left feeling happy to have had such wonderful conversation but also a bit sad as my dad would have loved to shoot the bull with this guy. (My dad reckoned himself an amateur historian.)

Once outside, I looked and found that whoever had called did not leave voice mail. So I just called the number back. I was thrilled to see it was the funeral home. I was highly unthrilled when I found out that someone has mistyped the entry in the field for my dad's highest level of education as this would require this person to retype them and resubmit them to the coroner. He would not get them until Monday and I probably won't get them until Tuesday. So I'm stuck here until Tuesday or Wednesday. While I am desperate to get home, see my friends, and sleep in my own bed (well, any bed at this point), my irritation wore off quickly, though, as I figured there was nothing I could do about it. My father is dead and four more days here is, in the larger scheme of things, not a big deal. So I resigned myself to a few more nights of sleeping on the floor and to try and check out the sights. I do, after all, have a new camera and there are some nice antebellum homes around here. I laughed that bit of bad luck off and drove back to the house.

Shortly after I arrived, there was a knock at the door. Opening it revealed Joe. He was here to get the rest of the stuff from the garage. I have noticed that when he comes to the door, he knocks and then goes back down the stairs to stand on the sidewalk. Must be a Southern thing - not to be right in someone's face as they open their door. Anyway, I helped him load his truck and then we chatted for a bit. I asked him about a good place to get crawfish as well as barbeque. Freddy's Cafe, he assured me, serves the best BBQ I will ever eat. But he warned me that it's in a black neighborhood. (Joe is black.) I jokingly asked if I would get my ass kicked for being white or for being a Yankee. At the end, he said he would bring me some food later tonight and took my order. He then asked what I wanted to drink: "A coke? Beer?"

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked. "A Coke or a beer...?"

Mmmm...beer. My ears pricked up after hearing that magical word. Some barley pop would really hit the spot. And so he left me looking forward to his catering expedition. I'll have me some ribs, potato salad, and bread with a beer which I hope shall be ice cold. If not, I shall make it so (number one).

And that's where I stand. Oh, I also stopped at the coffeehouse on the way back to get some joe and find out their hours. So, the plan is to spend some time there reading as well as going out to the pecan plantation and to see some old homes. I do have a new funkadelic camera so I will try to get it knocked in. Anyone here like the movie Steel Magnolias? It was shot here and I go by "The Steel Magnolia" house when I drive downtown so maybe I'll take some snaps of it. Natchitoches is a pretty town - I just wish I were here under more pleasant circumstances. However much I wish I weren't here alone, I will make do as best I can.