The Electrician, Day 50: Or, Delirium

Christian, the ADD electrician, said he was finished, except for finishing (that is, stuff that can only be done once the carpentry has been restored), somewhere between Sunday and Wednesday. (I thought he had to come back about something, but my contractor said no.) Meaning that the county’s electrical code inspector can come and look at what he did, and if it’s okay then the carpenters can put my baseboards back and graft the gaps in the construction board closed, and this long nightmare will be over. I gather inspection is scheduled for Monday.

I had a dream that the inspector appeared at the door at seven-thirty AM, and he was a queer-looking individual with a tiny head and narrow sloping shoulders and a big pear-shaped ass in Spandex bicycle togs, riding a bicycle in fact, and presenting a business card with an effigy of his pear-shaped self in a few strokes of artistic ink, indited with text about his zeal for bicycling. And that the Great God Pan, my contractor, came pelting to meet him at that ungodly hour, unshaven and neglecting to attire himself normally but dressed in pajamas with a sort of Hawaiian shirt pattern, a bluish background featuring large red hibiscus blossoms.

Does anyone have some Valium?

5 thoughts on “The Electrician, Day 50: Or, Delirium

  1. Always. Vividly.

    It got even weirder later when we had to cross a large meadow complicated with boggy sinks to get to the back sides of businesses in some sort of industrial park, fetching up at a Greek restaurant that my Albino Ex and I used to frequent. Which was actually Syrian or Lebanese, I think; the proprietor was called Bassam, and he had a small belly-dancer act on weekend nights (I used to get up and join them, which was something they encouraged at every table), and one day Bassam and the restaurant just totally disappeared to be replaced by a horrible Salvadoran place called Blanca’s. Central American food is horrible. All corn and fried shit. Just sayin.

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