Week in Seven Words #130

compensatory
In the absence of music, I hum more.

cyborg
He's a lean, mean furniture-moving machine, hefting tables, chairs and a futon without pausing for breath. Sort of like the Terminator, but instead of hailing from a post-apocalyptic future he works for a group that accepts donated furniture. He has no visible emotional expression but cheers us up considerably.

inspiration
The day is long and hot, and the moving van is filling up with bags, boxes and bins. The experience is worthy of a song parody, and he gets started on one during his nth elevator trip.

jetsam
The accumulated clutter was symbolic of baggage I needed (and still need) to get rid of.

shambles
It's happened again. Their relationship has gone down in flames.

shredding
I feel like an industrious rodent, hunched over tearing paper apart with my busy paws.

slotted
The shirts are all on the shelves in rippling textures and rainbow colors.

Week in Seven Words #113

auriferous
A movie night with a paranoid Humphrey Bogart, a motor-mouthed Walter Huston, and a gaggle of bandits and burros.

crated
The first stages of packing: DVDs and CDs in shoeboxes and books in Yaffa blocks.

paradoxical
I sometimes become the sort of person who isn't at peace unless she has something to worry about.

patties
We sit down to a meal of hamburgers and coleslaw. Our conversation unfolds mostly in variations of "mmmm, this is the best hamburger ever!"

possessed
The black plastic bag dances in the wind like an imp, taunting the customers at the café.

ruffled
A cold wind blasts into the city, agitating litter and telephone poles.

unhinged
The afternoon takes a turn for the absurd with a hunt for a new toilet seat.