Insomniac Fever Dream

Ben said I should write about my inclination to cram for the Oscars yesterday. I didn't end up doing it, but I was indeed inclined to squeeeeeze viewings The Queen and Children of Men into my Sunday afternoon in order to be as excited about the telecast as possible. I am aware of the supreme futility and dorkiness of this behavior but make no apologies.

You will be pleased to know, however, that I instead went on a quest for snow boots (according to One Woman's Opinion, now is the perfect time to buy winterwear at good prices). Of course the whole city was in a lather over the winter storm warning in effect in all five burroughs, so I had to batter a few tenacious shoppers in order to acquire a rather plain pair of black rubber boots along with discounted wool socks because those things are so not going to keep your feet warm. While watching the Oscars I was periodically assaulted by the scent of burning car tires. I am not unfamiliar with the Smell of Unknown Provenance and assumed the stink had resulted from my ironing my rug. Yes I iron my jute rug sometimes. Because the edge curls up in a most unattractive fashion and the only way I've found to make it stop and re-cling to its rubber rug pad is to use a hot iron. Anyway, it wasn't the iron. It was the boots. And I was rather sad to discover this, as my apartment smelled like a Goodyear factory and the snow was coming down and for the first time since I wore plastic bags on my feet inside my rubber wellies as a child on the peat, I was going to have some appropriate winter boots.

This led me to an extensive online search for "stinky rubber boots" online. Which led me to a lot of terrifying HUNTING sites. Did you know hunters have to eliminate every smell, human or otherwise, from their selves because if deer smell anything, they will run away and not let the hunters shoot them dead? Deer hunters wear rubber boots and have to contend with the same problems I do. (Do you see where I'm going? Total red state/blue state convergence thing happening here! I'm reaching across the aisle.) I almost but resisted ordering a product call No Scents-At-All from a hunting website, although I am totally intrigued by a product that is going to eliminate every single "malodor" from my person and possession. I had thought this product was called Febreze, but how wrong I was!

The last thing you want is for the deer to smell you, deer will ignore some movement after a while, but the first whiff of you he gets, then he is long gone! Often before you can even see him!

In addition, I took it upon myself to organize the teetering ivory tower of my bookshelves last night. Long story long, the next thing you knew, it was 7am. This extreme activity was punctucated by attempts to read Bambi vs. Godzilla and doze off, to no avail. So I rise at 1pm, after terrible morningmares about what happens to people who sleep all day. And there's barely enough snow on the ground to have detained the constructors from constructioning all the livelong day outside the window, which I sort of slept through and am now feeling terrible guilt.

Tour, TourMelissa Kirsch