Hammockery
Raise your hand if you have a hammock? Now put it down, you look silly. Those of you who didn't raise your hand, go and buy a hammock. Now. Back? Okay, before you put it up, let me explain to you why you just did that.
I have a hammock. In fact, I have a photo of said hammock right here.
Hammocks are great things. I went outside earlier this evening to encourage the dog to come inside so I could feed her and get back to the DVD I was watching. Since she was reluctant to come inside, I just got in the hammock, thinking it'd take a couple of minutes for her to wear herself out barking at the dog next door and chasing phantom squirrels in the flower beds.
So there I am, hanging my foot over the edge of the hammock and pushing off the ground to make it rock back and forth (it's a delicate balance between being relaxed and looking stupid while losing blood flow beneath your knee). I stare at the sky because there's nothing much else to look at. Have you ever really stared at the sky? This evening it was baby blue over my head fading to off-white at either side with the sun going down behind me and to the right, turning the sky between the trees bright red.
Imagine it as a sky sandwich made from white bread with the crusts cut off and one corner on fire. That's what you get for using a cheap toaster. Maybe God should just jam a fork in there, see if that'll fix it. Maybe that's what lightning is.
Where was I going with this? Oh, right, hammocks. So anyway, I get so distracted by all these thoughts and images in my head that before I know it, it's twenty minutes later. In the end, I only went back inside because it was getting too cold.
A hammock is a great place to just sit and observe the world. Someone should found a religion based purely around hammock meditation. I'd join just for the fun of watching new initiates trying to sit cross-legged on a hammock.
So anyway, that's why you now have a hammock. You can string it between two trees if you want, but that'll make it harder to move around. Actually, attaching anything to a couple of trees tends to make it less mobile. But still, go put it together and relax for twenty minutes.
I have a hammock. In fact, I have a photo of said hammock right here.
Hammocks are great things. I went outside earlier this evening to encourage the dog to come inside so I could feed her and get back to the DVD I was watching. Since she was reluctant to come inside, I just got in the hammock, thinking it'd take a couple of minutes for her to wear herself out barking at the dog next door and chasing phantom squirrels in the flower beds.
So there I am, hanging my foot over the edge of the hammock and pushing off the ground to make it rock back and forth (it's a delicate balance between being relaxed and looking stupid while losing blood flow beneath your knee). I stare at the sky because there's nothing much else to look at. Have you ever really stared at the sky? This evening it was baby blue over my head fading to off-white at either side with the sun going down behind me and to the right, turning the sky between the trees bright red.
Imagine it as a sky sandwich made from white bread with the crusts cut off and one corner on fire. That's what you get for using a cheap toaster. Maybe God should just jam a fork in there, see if that'll fix it. Maybe that's what lightning is.
Where was I going with this? Oh, right, hammocks. So anyway, I get so distracted by all these thoughts and images in my head that before I know it, it's twenty minutes later. In the end, I only went back inside because it was getting too cold.
A hammock is a great place to just sit and observe the world. Someone should found a religion based purely around hammock meditation. I'd join just for the fun of watching new initiates trying to sit cross-legged on a hammock.
So anyway, that's why you now have a hammock. You can string it between two trees if you want, but that'll make it harder to move around. Actually, attaching anything to a couple of trees tends to make it less mobile. But still, go put it together and relax for twenty minutes.
posted by Alasdair Corbett at
11:29 PM
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