Flexistentialism Welcome Guest | Login or Register

The lack of posts recently is because of traveling. Pictures will go up in the gallery soon, but for the time being, there are other things to tell.

Since the move, we are subleasing in a rather large apartment building, living 7 blocks from the downtown area. This is really great for walking down to restaurants, bars, groceries, etc. In fact, I’ve found a website that identifies exactly what it is I like about the places I choose to live. It’s called walkscore, and you put in your address to get a rating between 0 and 100 (with 100 being a good thing) of how closely you live to various services. It then produces a map and a list of the nearest grocery, movie theatre, hardware store, bar, dry cleaners, you get the idea. Our current score is 88, and our last place was an 82. Aaaaahhh. Quantifying what were previously unquantifiable qualities is very satisfying for engineers…

However, that’s irrelevant to this story. In our building of about 30 units, there is an open area linking the hall to the laundry room and leasing office. It’s where the mailboxes are, and there’s a bulletin board, useful things like that. The weird part is the “free” bookshelf. A bookshelf in one corner accumulates and dissipates….stuff. Sure, there are lots of very dated books and magazines that seem to stay on the shelf, but we’ve seen lamps, TVs, houseplants, what I assume are doctoral theses, and other bookshelves come and go. Sam grinningly brought home one day one of those plastic sheets that magnify whatever is behind it. (One guess as to the first thing he, and probably any boy, wanted to magnify). I topped that by bringing home a gauzy, pink curtain with screen-printed trees on it in various shades of pink.

But the truly WEIRD item found in the pile sat there for close to a week before finding an anonymous new home. A cabbage. A cabbage bigger than the average adult human head. It was bagged in a plastic grocery sack, unassumingly sitting there. Who buys a cabbage and sadly, finds that it does not meet their needs, leaving it instead in the building-wide free pile? And even more strange, who decides, “AH-HA!! Exactly what I wanted! A giant cabbage! ‘Ask, and ye shall receive!’” I just wish I could find out about the adventures this cabbage embarked upon, and am a little sad I never will.

Trackback this Post | Feed on comments to this Post