I picked up Fahrenheit 451 last night for the dozenth time. I read it when I was eleven or so and then snippets throughout my adulthood. Since it's one of those books people refer to, like Brave New World or 1984 I thought it would be good to bone up on it again, espeically since it's cropping up on T's reading lists.
A few pages in I read this:
He hung up his black beetle-colored helmet and shined it; he hung his flameproof jacket neatly; he showered luxuriously, and then, whistling, hands in pockets, walked across the upper floor of the fire station and fell down the hole.
Then I threw the book across the room. Seriously. I did it forcefully and angrily. Have I mentioned I really hate overuse of adverbs?
We are having our yard landscaped and we're at the gilding the lily stage. Anyone who is reading this probably knows we've had one calamity after another when it comes to this poorly graded yard and precipitation (BTW, that adverb was well-used.)
Yesterday the hydro seed dude came and did something to our hillside that was all too reminiscent of those late night commercials for spray on hair. Gallons of gushing green stuff topped our sad, bald slope with a thick coating of fake grass. While I appreciate that it should sprout into something noteworthy (or so says the Rogaine commercials) right now it looks a little ridiculous. I'll take pictures as soon as I am on the same floor as my camera - stairs still hurt like the dickens.
EDIT: Camera procured, I managed to snap a few shots of my poor embarrassed yard hiding it's head under a flaxen shawl. I'm assuming the miracle of life will cause grass to sprout up through the little gaps and turn our sledding run into a grassy knoll.