About ThisAbout Me
Email Me
Bookmark
Charlie Hatton
Brookline, MA
« Just the Facts, Maine | Main | The Best Laid Non-Plans »
The missus and I have been in Maine for two-and-a-half days now. As our sojourn rolls merrily along, I'm learning a lot. About the state. About myself. And about granite. Let's review, shall we?
Yes. Let's.
1. I mentioned earlier that we arrived a smidge after 9:00 in the evening on Friday, and the local restaurants were all closed for the night. I secretly hoped -- because it was kind of a dumb thing to hope publicly -- that it was just some kind of Friday night phenomenon, or localized to just the little town near the place where we're staying.
Hardly. It's as difficult to buy a lobster roll after 9pm here as it is to buy a beer before noon in Boston, home of one of the most savagely Puritanical sets of 'blue laws' around. You'd think crustaceans were a controlled substance or something.
2. Happily, the beer laws here mostly make up for niggling food issues. We bought a six-pack at a quarter til ten at night, and I had Guinness with an early lunch yesterday. Fat, drunk and starving is some way to go through life, son. According to Maine, apparently.
"Some toilets can't take a joke, apparently."
3. I mentioned yesterday that the toilet seat was smaller than most. Ten minutes later, the stupid thing clogged and it took me an hour to get it working properly again.
Moral: Don't screw around with plumbing fixtures before you get to know them. Some toilets can't take a joke, apparently.
4. Yesterday, we walked to the end of a nearly mile-long breakwater made from big irregularly-shaped blocks of granite, with jagged cracks between.
Why did we do this? The reasons are unclear, even now. I was told it would be 'scenic', but with the uneven blocks and cracks and fresh seagull plop everywhere, the only thing I 'scened' was the ground two feet in front of me. I haven't stared at my own shoes for that long since junior prom.
5. At one point yesterday, my wife looked over and loudly exclaimed:
'Hey! Have we seen three lighthouses, all in one day?'
I told her to keep her voice down. Because we had. And I was afraid the jealous people around would want to kill us for our rock-star lifestyle. I mean, three lighthouses?
This is just the kind of wanton American excess the rest of the world hates us for. My apologies to those of you living in a one-lighthouse-per-day or two-lighthouse-per-day world. We'll do our best not to lord it over you.
Until next time, at least. For now, I'm going to go make up with the toilet. Maybe if I flush some flowers and a box of chocolates down it, it'll behave for the remainder of the trip.
![[Subscribe]](/blog/images/subscribe.png)
Here's a tip for your toilet problem. I found that if I take the extra time and cut the body parts into smaller pieces, they will flush. Sure, it's not always an option, like when the police are knocking on your door, but overall, keeping bone and organ parts meticulously small can save you time in the long run. And your plumbing repair bills will be a thing of the past.