Stroke

Cicadas are making the orchard buzz. A few nights hence they will be closer, then closer still. Once they arrive outside my window their high-pitched screech will induce my late-summer madness. It is a sound that disarrays the molecules of the brain and makes the blood shiver. It's a wonder that mass suicides don't result from this annual infestation. I survive it only by masking the noise with other sounds. If I sleep at all those nights it is only with the television on, until morning silences the insect horde. Then it gets too hot to sleep soundly and I dream of screeching cicadas. Somebody should do something about August.


( Sunday Verse )

Back

My telephone is back, dragging the Internets with it. Now I'll be getting spam phone calls again. How did I endure without them? I've undoubtedly missed so many opportunities to refuse to buy insurance!

Head yanking is to take place tomorrow afternoon. Not a day too soon. My neck has taken a severe dislike to sitting at the computer. I'm going to go put some ice on it now. My neck, not the computer. After tomorrow maybe I'll be able to sit here longer.