In placing the final tile, I beat the April 22nd anniversary of Earth Day by two months, though, interestingly enough, if you go to the extensive website at earthday.org you can’t find that date mentioned anywhere, which I guess is their way of saying that every day is Earth Day.
And, by the way, I constructed the whole thing, including the globe and stand, despite numerous 21st century distractions, in less than the proverbial six days, when there was no streaming internet, just saying.
Noting that great power comes with great responsibility, I am taking special care in regard to my creation, lest it meet the same fateful path as its biblical inspiration. So, in an effort to reduce the possibility of Lego global warming, my first act is to light it only with LED bulbs.
Second, because a new study, published recently in Nature Reviews Earth and Environment, shows that global atmospheric dust has a slight overall cooling effect on the planet, I’ve stopped dusting and vacuuming.
Third, I am cutting back on carbon dioxide emissions in my home, which means not only restricting use of gas appliances, but also only exhaling once a day. Due to all the dust accumulating since invoking the rule above, this isn’t a problem, as I now only chance inhaling once a day also.
If all else fails, I’ve placed my earth in close proximity to possible escape vehicles.
This inner mechanism eventually will be hidden from view, just as it is in the simulated computer game model we live on, once I bring forth the continents, emerging not from continuous tectonic activity over millions of years, but rather in a matter of days from the remaining plastic bags in the box sent to me by the almighty creator – Lego.
So I probably won’t be attempting the new 9000-piece LEGO Titanic, because, well, it’s titanic, even though there’s a YouTube video demonstrating how to do it in 10 minutes, which, according to an expedition financed by The History Channel, is twice as long as it took the real ship to sink.
I’ve forgone my previous day-to-day reporting on construction projects and am proud to announce that I’ve made it through the first four bags of pieces since I put my tunnel visor on and went straight to the object of my desire at the LEGO store, without allowing myself to be tempted by whatever other sirens within might be calling my name.
Now that that’s all done, I have a confession to make. I ate the last cookie. No, wait, forget I said that. I meant to say that I’ve been stringing everyone along. Not in the sense of string theory, or string cheese, but rather in that I finished building the shuttle a week ago, but didn’t want to take time away from the process to write about it.
It’s like trying to get flypaper (no pun originally intended) off your hands. If you display the shuttle with the bay doors open, and the Hubble telescope in launch position, you might notice any misaligned stickers. If Hal closes the bay door, Dave might be in trouble, but everything else looks fine.
My biggest obstacle now appears to be my piano playing. Huh? Well, you see, my piano teacher privately censures me if I don’t keep my fingernails sufficiently trimmed, as if that will overcome a lack of talent. Hers are down to the knuckle.
The instructions start with the Hubble Space Telescope, which can be displayed separately or carried by the shuttle as it was when launched into orbit by Discovery on April 24, 1990. Construction is a piece of cake, but a small affront to my sensibilities. The telescope employs something other than the classic bricks to represent the solar arrays that power it. This feels like a cheat, but not mine, so I forgive the Danes their transgression, and move on, right after a nap.
The bag containing the box stared at me with its big red eyes, like a puppy that had been up all night cramming for its final obedience test. That bag had already caused me problems, trying to carry it home on a windy day. A big gust had almost torn it from my hands and sent it careening down the sidewalk.