Day 28

When I was small, we always wanted the teacher to let us have class outside. Only once in three blue moons did it ever happen. But in isolation, when you go to a meeting of grainy, screeny faces, the boss can't make you go inside. If you want to join the class from a tree in your backyard you just go ahead and do it.

I've seen meeting programs that let you swap in a fake background, but that only adds to the cachet of sitting in the best actual surroundings. I have half a mind to spend all weekend making a rig so on Monday I can sit in front of a normal window, but actually be hanging from my toes like a bat. Those meetings go pretty long, so I'd definitely die, but I bet they'd have shorter meetings from then on.

Ok. I was probably going somewhere poignant with that, to do with "Don't we all build ourselves a diorama to live in, with a little diorama hammock to swing on?" But I interrupt this journal entry to report some important LATE BREAKING NEWS.

The habitat-mate was just adding bleach to a fabric shower curtain I had soaking in wash, when she called me over to investigate a strange phenomenon. The wash water was full of gauzy flotsam, and we surmised the curtain's plastic coating must not be certified for the hot cycle. But on examination, the curtain didn't seem to be melting or otherwise coming apart. Also, there were specks of brown paper clinging to the fabric. Not a small amount of brown paper. It wasn't like I overlooked a shopping list in my pocket. It was like I tossed a life-sized origami buffalo in with the load. Long looks of puzzlement were exchanged. It was the habitat-mate who solved the puzzle.

Before I heaved that big ungainly curtain into the washer, hadn't there been, on top of the drier, a big roll of paper towels?