cleared
For the first time in an embarrassingly long while, I can see the bottom of my desk drawers. It's a cathartic moment.
clues
She's a competent person who psyches herself out, her thoughts chasing suspicions and omens.
fisticuffs
My knuckles are raw and bleeding, as if I've punched a wall, but the only things they've battled against are dust and cold, dry weather.
histrionics
In a heartbeat, she feigns hysteria, her voice plaintive and her eyes moist. Cars zoom by on the highway.
inconsiderate
He's in a bowler hat and a red bowtie, and he sits in the front row. From there, his tired jokes and loud asides are sure to disrupt the speaker.
renewing
Cleaning for Passover means a fresh start. Everything looks neater and more spacious. There's room to work and grow. I'm not going to be buried in the detritus of past years.
self-possessed
I'm amazed at how patient he is, fiddling quietly with the picture book as he waits for me to wrap up a conversation on the phone.
Showing posts with label tidiness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tidiness. Show all posts
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Week in Seven Words #63
accretion
Words are deposited like sediment on the page, pebbles and boulders and fine silt.
click
When I find myself slowing down on the keys, not typing with the speed and spirit I need, I watch a few minutes of Eleanor Powell tap-dancing – her brilliance, rapidity, rhythm, innovation, and ever-present smile get my fingers moving.
fan
Papers and books fan out from my desk, like trees flattened by the impact of an asteroid.
husk
Single-minded and unsocial, most of my thoughts caught up in work.
irritants
At the library they unpack their lunches from rustling brown bags. From each rustling brown bag they produce rattling bags of chips and sandwiches wrapped in aluminum foil. They crunch on the chips while peeling away the aluminum foil and taking long slurps from bottles of neon-colored liquid. They whisper loudly and wetly at each other. Their chairs squeak.
rehashing
It seems like when we meet we discuss the same things over and over. They don't make any more sense the third time around than they did the second and first.
trim
In preparation for Passover, she helps me tidy and vacuum, stock up on food, tweak the books and papers into piles.
Words are deposited like sediment on the page, pebbles and boulders and fine silt.
click
When I find myself slowing down on the keys, not typing with the speed and spirit I need, I watch a few minutes of Eleanor Powell tap-dancing – her brilliance, rapidity, rhythm, innovation, and ever-present smile get my fingers moving.
fan
Papers and books fan out from my desk, like trees flattened by the impact of an asteroid.
husk
Single-minded and unsocial, most of my thoughts caught up in work.
irritants
At the library they unpack their lunches from rustling brown bags. From each rustling brown bag they produce rattling bags of chips and sandwiches wrapped in aluminum foil. They crunch on the chips while peeling away the aluminum foil and taking long slurps from bottles of neon-colored liquid. They whisper loudly and wetly at each other. Their chairs squeak.
rehashing
It seems like when we meet we discuss the same things over and over. They don't make any more sense the third time around than they did the second and first.
trim
In preparation for Passover, she helps me tidy and vacuum, stock up on food, tweak the books and papers into piles.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Week in Seven Words #15
agitation
The sky is orange and gray, with a gleam of lightning now and then from behind the cloud cover. The wind is panting, and the trees tremble. The storm won't contain itself much longer.
capitalize
The difference between a lowercase and uppercase B stalls the programming code, though I hardly know this as I comb through the lines attempting to make sense of an ambiguous error message. It takes a friendly human, with friendly human eyes, to look through it twice and spot the difference.
disorientation
I've grown used to a certain way of walking to this place; I don't think much about the turns I need to make, the landmarks and houses I walk past. That changes twice. Once at night, when a friend suggests making a shortcut through an alley and a side street, and I find my steps faltering a little, as if I'm in a foreign neighborhood. And the second time is during the day, so even the accustomed route looks a little strange - in the sunshine details leap out that have lain hidden in the dark, and I need to stop and stare and remind myself that yes, this is the street.
escapades
I make recurring efforts to neaten the room. But as my attention turns elsewhere the tidiness dissolves, and the next time I stop at the doorway and take a hard assessing look I find that the books have leapfrogged over one another, the papers have waltzed around the floor, and the shirts have turned somersaults off their shelves and onto the chairs.
incongruent
The man has stretched his arms along the back of the bench; his legs are eased out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, and his spine is curved in a lazy C. His head is tipped back, his eyes probably full of sun and clouds, and I figure he's singing or maybe even talking softly to himself. I'm not prepared, when drawing within earshot, to hear the growls and foul words grinding out of his mouth.
magnify
The nightmare is both ridiculous and revealing; as I think about it afterwards, I realize how much weight I've placed on what seems to be a trivial detail, but is actually only one small part of a larger problem.
windup
At least the day is long, and the hours don't seem to hurry. We have lunch in a breezy room and talk there for a good while after. I savor the time without consciously forcing myself to do so. There's a lot I've learned from this small group of people, and many days I've had great fun being with them. I don't think it's sunk in yet, how I'll miss the frequency of our meetings.
The sky is orange and gray, with a gleam of lightning now and then from behind the cloud cover. The wind is panting, and the trees tremble. The storm won't contain itself much longer.
capitalize
The difference between a lowercase and uppercase B stalls the programming code, though I hardly know this as I comb through the lines attempting to make sense of an ambiguous error message. It takes a friendly human, with friendly human eyes, to look through it twice and spot the difference.
disorientation
I've grown used to a certain way of walking to this place; I don't think much about the turns I need to make, the landmarks and houses I walk past. That changes twice. Once at night, when a friend suggests making a shortcut through an alley and a side street, and I find my steps faltering a little, as if I'm in a foreign neighborhood. And the second time is during the day, so even the accustomed route looks a little strange - in the sunshine details leap out that have lain hidden in the dark, and I need to stop and stare and remind myself that yes, this is the street.
escapades
I make recurring efforts to neaten the room. But as my attention turns elsewhere the tidiness dissolves, and the next time I stop at the doorway and take a hard assessing look I find that the books have leapfrogged over one another, the papers have waltzed around the floor, and the shirts have turned somersaults off their shelves and onto the chairs.
incongruent
The man has stretched his arms along the back of the bench; his legs are eased out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, and his spine is curved in a lazy C. His head is tipped back, his eyes probably full of sun and clouds, and I figure he's singing or maybe even talking softly to himself. I'm not prepared, when drawing within earshot, to hear the growls and foul words grinding out of his mouth.
magnify
The nightmare is both ridiculous and revealing; as I think about it afterwards, I realize how much weight I've placed on what seems to be a trivial detail, but is actually only one small part of a larger problem.
windup
At least the day is long, and the hours don't seem to hurry. We have lunch in a breezy room and talk there for a good while after. I savor the time without consciously forcing myself to do so. There's a lot I've learned from this small group of people, and many days I've had great fun being with them. I don't think it's sunk in yet, how I'll miss the frequency of our meetings.
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