Fogged

More fog came and went tonight, but this time it was accompanied by dense cloud cover which concealed the moon, so when the fog was at its thickest, I had a little gray room to myself, and the rest of the world faded into darkness a few dozen feet away. It smelled nice, too, being scented with wood-- mostly pine-- rather than having the cold, swampy smell it sometimes gets. The fog is gone now, but the clouds are still there. There's a slight chance of rain today, but a better chance Saturday.

I finally fired up Sluggo and downloaded about a month's worth of Juno mail. Mostly spam, but a couple of things I should answer, however late my replies will be. Because I didn't move the chair over to Sluggo's location (it's a lot of bother to get it over the bed that pretends to be a couch), I had to kneel while deleting the spam, and now my ass is sore. It's out of shape, I guess. I'm going to have to start doing ass exercises. Is there a tape for that?

I'm still feeling unfocused. An avocado sandwich didn't help.

Giant birds ate our ancestors' brains. Heh. Perhaps I'm experiencing some sort of hereditary memory.

Allure

The cat sits at the window and watches the gray day become rainy evening. The matte pavement turns glossy, presenting a blurry picture of fading sky, as a small bird making an insect-like chirp gets in a last few pecks at the lawn before flying off to the shelter of a bush. The rain isn't very strong, and the small drops make little sound, but the downspout soon begins to trickle. A slight breeze rises and flicks drops from the pine needles. The rush of their falling passes up the block like a wave. The cat grows tired of the scene and moves to the couch for a nap. I continue to watch the fading dusk, and put off lighting the lamp. When I finally head for the switch, the room has grown so dark that I must feel my way carefully. It always ends like that. I'm supposed to be out there, I think.