I was unable to get into the doctor this morning, which means I will have to wait until Friday morning. Happily, at some point in today’s running around a channel appears to have opened in the wax, and now I can hear again. I will continue home irrigation, an odious and messy business, in the hopes of being done with it before then.

Last weekend Viv and I were wandering about deepest Ballard, when we came across a small secretary desk, about two feet by one foot, that we immediately realized would fit well in our living room and displace one of the rickety 1950s TV trays that Viv has been employing a a computer and work desk. Unfortunately, the shop owner was unable to meet our price expectations and so we did not come away with the piece.

Today, as we enjoyed the splendors of intracity traffic in Seattle on the first day of boating season, we passed by a gimcrack shop we’d never ventured into. I told Viv to pull over, and once parked we explored the place. Nearly immediately Viv found a matched table and chair set, rather plainer but probably older than the other one, for well under half the price that we’d been offered at the other place. The tiny chair was quite rickety and not well suited to day-to-day use.

Around a corner in the shop, we found another old chair, this with a home-made cushion that matched one on the small side chair that came with the table. Asking, we learned that the three pieces of furniture all originated in the same home. We asked about purchasing them as a unit, and the shop’s owner extended an extremely reasonable offer we were pleased to agree to. A bit of puzzle-building later, we we had them in the car, and as I write, Viv is seated at the sturdy chair, computer on desk.

Interestingly, the sturdy chair was made in Aurora, Indiana, at the Cochran Chair Company; Aurora is just down the road from Lawrenceburg, the home of several friends of mine from Bloomington, including Matt Uhlmann, Bill Weaver, and John Terrill.

Yow, whatta day. We finally dropped off the busted teevee and went podunking. Brunch at upper Queen Anne’s Paragon, followed by random house-for-sale flyer sampling. We ended up in a couple of antique stores we’d never been in, and I got my gentleman’s clothes butler, finally.

On our way south, we pulled over hurriedly and pinched the tire between wheel and curb with force enough to cause a blowout. A call to AAA, and the tow truck appeared just as we hung up. He changed the tire and we were on the road again within ten minutes of the blowout.

My sleep last night was extremely restless and full of nightmares, concluding with a dream that yanked me awake. In that dream I was walking along a wooded bluff above a pebbled beach with a companion. We were discussing the several wrecked buildings that were scattered along the ridge. Apparently I recalled a time when the mossy cul de sac had been the center of a vibrant nightlife, but the lights were long gone.

As we walked down a path leading to the strand, we came across a huge, partially completed building which had never been finished due to an obvious arson. As we looked at it, we were jolted by terrifying screams from the beach below. Two small children clutched each other and sobbed in terror, lying prone and rolled away from the source of their terror.

Behind them, a construction crew worked frantically to free a coworker who was lying, partially crushed, under a collapsed concrete wall. It was his screams that we’d heard up the embankment.

A fine saturday beering was had in the company of Dan, Jim, Tom, and for a part of it, Manuel. Viv joined us for nosh at Blue C Sushi to get things rolling.

On the way, Viv and I had a bite at Ivar’s fish bar on Lake Union. I dropped in on Dusty Strings as well and made the acquaintance of a killer 1922 tenor banjo, a steal at a mere $1200.

A friend of mine had a break-in tonight. It’s a bummer. I’m glad we were able to be there for him; he’s understandably unsettled.