Mood

Night breeze flows down the ridge, rustling nearby leaves and bringing a distant hum from pine woods. I see the shadow of the telephone pole creep across the street and onto my lawn, its cross arms slowly twisting on the long axis. An automatic sprinkler comes on in a nearby yard, adds its swishing to the night's sounds for a while, then falls silent. The cricket chirps have become fewer and softer.

The scent of jasmine is gone, but a hint of gardenia lingers. I get the feeling I've been through this night before, many times. Were it not for the stiffness I feel in my joints, I could convince myself that this was some earlier year. The dead cats who once shared the nights with me here flick their tails like shadows within the shadows. Then there is emptiness again, and the unseen walk is bare except for a few fallen leaves. How have I found so melancholy a mood in so mild a summer night?

Do the Twist!

Time to go get my head yanked!

Maybe it'll get my atlas down to seven and a half degrees out of alignment.

The last four days haven't been as bad as the previous week, but each adjustment is different, so it could end up being worse over the weekend. And tonight and tomorrow will probably be pretty bad either way.

Here's hoping nothing breaks.