ALL DANCING OUTSIDE

All things considered, it could be warmer. Having gotten up before five o'clock and made the first cup of coffee, I stepped outside briefly and realized that although by the standards of Boston or the Great Plains it was positively tropical out there -- no snow drifts for the thousandth plus day in a row but who is counting -- it wasn't actually warm.
Not really tee-shirt weather.

In the good old days fifty degree weather was a good excuse to smoke the first pipe of the day indoors. Good thing it's not raining. I guess modern society, with its neurotic insistence that we step outside and enjoy a brisk walk and fresh air is healthier. It probably keeps our generation fit and militarily trim. Gosh darn I feel vigorous. Circulation going, alongside the smoldering bowl of red Virginia with a touch of Turkish and Perique, oh golly yes!

Actually there is no real need to get up so early or arrive at work an hour and a half before start-time, but I seriously hate rushing. It leads to mistakes and dropped stitches.
Dropped stitches are hard to pick up.

Plus I enjoy the quiet.


In theory I could make use of that time to dance a bit on the table tops with a lamp shade over my head, as was common during the fifties and sixties, but what I actually do is set some tea, turn on the machines, and get ready for work. Before anyone else gets there prattling and stumbling, and gets in the way.

Did people ever actually dance on table tops with lamp shades, or is that just a story? A fond idea of possibilities in an ideal world? It would presume that tables were stronger, and people had a better sense of physical coordination and balance than they do. Also, no glass areas within falling distance that they might crash into. Nothing breakable. So no computers or office equipment, no crockery or stacks of plates, no non-child safe drinking vessels or bottles. A version of the stone age, but with more plastic and rubber.

I note, by the way, that many coffee tables are glass topped.
Obviously not entended for dancing upon.


Also, pipesmokers in mid-burn do not dance. We glide serenely from ashtray to ashtray.
Like birds of prey. Graceful and harmonious. Contemplative.
I haven't danced in several years.


My lamp shades are not suitable for wearing.
So it wouldn't happen in any case.



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