...But it Looks so Gray, and Sad

It isn't the weather that looks gray and sad, it's my coffee. Because for the second time in a row, my half and half has, um, 'gone off' before its due date. My first cup of gourmet "at home" coffee in three days and it is besmirched by milk. Not even whole mile. Skim.

I love the color of coffee with cream. In New Jersey, I endeavored to paint an entire room, ceiling and all that color with a contrasting off-white trim. I liked it. A little monochromatic, perhaps, but attractive. It was the only room I ever had where all the furniture matched the carpets and the paint and the window treatments and the stuff on the walls.

I love to color of coffee with cream. It is so warm and happy to me. We learn through conditioned response (ala Ivan Pavlov) to love the things that bring us comfort and happiness. Coffee with cream is my first taste of happiness (and sometimes my last) of the day.

And now, the much anticipated, (and very much needed and deserved I may add), cup sits in front of me. Gray. Sad. Like the pallor of a patient losing his fight with his disease. Like a funeral scene in a movie. Gray. Sad.

At least the coffee is good. And I do like black coffee, so it isn't like I use cream to cover up a distaste for the base liquid. So, it tastes fine, I guess. But I was going for magnificent. And fine is a long way from there.
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The last few days have had me on the road, again. I haven't traveled in a bit. I almost forgot how. It was but 12 months ago that I kept a ready bag in my trunk at all times since I lived at DEFCON 3 and may have to go at any time. I was fleet. Prepared. Savvy.

This trip, I had 72 hours notice (an eternity). It took me almost that entire time to stand dumbly in front of my closet, then the apothecary to choose my toiletries, then in the hot attic for which suitcase, then at my shoes, then ties, then files and so on until about the minute it was time to go.

I felt like Jake LaMotta at the end of Raging Bull. A big fat slow charicature of myself.

The trip went off without incident. Literally, which is too bad because I don't have any money in my pocket to show for the expense, but being in sales is like being a detective. You follow the leads.
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I sold a job I am subcontracting to... myself. Em and I are going to remove wallpaper (which was poorly affixed and pretty much jumping off the walls already) and paint a bank branch. I sold this job in December last, but only now did they just approve it.

I figured I could make maybe $50.00 if I hired a sub, or I could take what I estimate is about 15 hours of my time and make about a grand. Tough choice in these tough times. I'll take the grand, thank you. Lord knows we can paint.
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I lost the battle with my lawn again. Sometime around mid-July I caught a creeping weed that is pervasively impacting much of my grass. I killed it with a mixture of chemicals and pulling. I think the weed itself is under control, but at the expense of some large patches of grass which are the shade of brown I imagine every time I read "The Grapes of Wrath". (Editor's note: That has been exactly one time. And that was enough.)

It is way too hot to seed and we have far too much sun beaming on the lawn all day. When we moved in, the city had just planted a sapling in our yard, so unlike our neighbors with large maples for shade, we have nothing. 5 years on, the sapling keeps reaching for the sky, so in only 15 years or so we will have the shade we desire!

Instead, I will have to wait for that magical week here in Michigan where it is temperate, sunny during the day; but not too sunny, has no frost overnight and rains a quarter of an inch at least once per day. Yeah. Right.

I guess if the beginning of this post is called ...But it looks so gray and sad, the end could just as easily be ...But it looks so brown, and sad.

Such is life.