i scrubbed it down bit by bit: the side ground into all sorts and temperatures of soils, the one with crumbs in its reinforced corners from stark violations of the "sling that up in a tree right now because the badgers, raccoons and cougars approach, en masse" law, the (unused, except as additional layer of scant warmth) rainfly, the mesh windows on all sides. into the bathtub went the modular negative-carbon-weight poles, collapsed and removed of dirt (a trial by soaking). their rumoured spring knows no bounds, however; the suddenness of transformation into the slightly-arced, graceful, slender cylinders for which they strive wreaked a havoc in the bathroom for which i possess several too few hands. the domestic drama dried faster, even, than the microfibers, so i left it all, slewn and for certain, much longer than necessary. which is why i only, finally, pack everything away now.
washing it thoroughly was a means whereby to ensure (ala not taking a map along when i was "just going to Detroit") that i would not be enticed to do anything rash in its company. i've operated according to this dictum for several weeks now, all the while lamenting loudly about frozen bones and, thus, solidifying my resolve.
when i returned to Chinatown-in-a-building, blok 70 wonder of the world, this weekend and, there, bought a sufficiently warm bed-cover for the remaining months of screaming wind outside these high windows, it was in the light of an afternoon sunset whose fineness of glow i have rarely seen, in a wind lusty and warm enough to nearly separate the bundle from my mittenless hands, my carefully secured wig from my scalp.
the sight of them side by side—tent and blanket, washed and wrung, draped across all the chairs i can rustle—only confirms what i already know about winter. the one i can roll into a 1-L volume is the one i will not so easily forget, though it could be lost in my closet; the one i need is the one i'd rather do without. and, never, never shall these two dwell together, except on the day when both were clean.
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> the one with crumbs in its reinforced corners
> from stark violations of the "sling that up in a
> tree right now because the badgers, raccoons
> and cougars approach, en masse" law
Go ahead and laugh. It's all just fun and games now, eating your pocketfood snug in your tent, without a care in the world. Just you wait, though. Your carelessness will be your downfall. One evening a badger, lured by the succulent smell of crumbs, will waddle into your campsite, shred your tent, shred your running shoes, and EAT YOUR BICYCLE.
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