63/403: Fix

There was a Saturday afternoon nap, waking from which I was sure it must be early Sunday morning, but it's only Saturday evening and it's raining. When I first looked out the window it was a sprinkle, but by the time I'd gone to the bathroom to lighten my bladder I could hear raindrops hitting the roof and the wind rising, and by the time I got back to the window a furious wind was lashing the glass with great streams of water and I was startled by their roar.

I had not gone to the mailbox before the nap, and I knew that anything in it would surely be soaked, so I gave upon the idea of making a rescue. I'm picturing the latest issue of Harpers sitting in the little black box turning to pulp, and distressing though the thought of losing yet another issue is, there is no way I'm going out in that mess. The last light is just about gone, and whatever is in the box is surely unsalvageable already, so I will remain indoors and perhaps go scoop up the sad residue tomorrow. Let night fall and conceal the tragedy while I mourn the loss I don't really know is there.

And why the feck have I still not signed up for USPS delivery notifications by email? Procrastinating old geezer with dead executive function! Oh well, it won't be long before I forget altogether that I've even got subscriptions to magazines. That'll fix it.

Fix dinner now. As soon as I eat second breakfast. Brownie bites with Madeleines. Yum.