Klowns in my Koffee

When T.S. Eliot wrote in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock that "I should have been a pair of ragged claws" he may not have had in mind recovering from roof work. But he should have. I awoke with very sore hands. T., aware that I can't even make a fist, kidded me mercilessly. (I found that other hand gestures were worth the pain however.)

We are preparing to take Kollege Kid back to school to start her senior year tomorrow. We conquered the mundane chores today -- laundry, packing, and everything left on her summer 'to-do' list. She has the 'list gene' from me. Her father hates this in her as he has an indifferent attitude toward completion of anything; when he's around, she hides her lists.

Despite the lessened manual dexterity, I spent much of the day sewing and mending so that Kollege Kid would have wearable clothing. Porkus, in the profitable days, used to cough up gifts of appreciation at Christmas, so one year I bought myself a new sewing machine. Thank you, Porkus. (This is in stark contrast to last year when they made no mention of any winter holidays to employees and sent the previous year's cards out to customers with a new date pasted over the old one. But Christmas came to Whoville anyway.)

On a roll and fueled with green tea and a pile of DVD's that I'd been meaning to watch, we were also able to turn Kollege Kid's two damaged bed dust ruffles into one good one. (In my house, the dust ruffles are made of real dust. But I digress.)

In hemming a couple of pair of new jeans, I fulfilled a promise to Princess Potatohead to sew her new dresses. With the cold snap, it's unfortunate that they are sundresses. If it doesn't warm up one last time, there's always next summer.

Since I was thinking of T.S Eliot, here are a few of his memorable quotes:

If you aren't in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?

Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.

Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.

Humankind cannot bear very much reality.