Later and Later

[rejectomorph]

There's still light in the sky at almost eight o'clock. Birds fill the gray evening with songs. I hear acorn woodpeckers, and what I think must be some sort of thrush which has a very loud voice, among others. The rain finally stopped late this afternoon, the clouds parting briefly to allow a bit of sunshine make the water beads sparkle. If the moon appears, it will be waning, so I won't see it until late. It won't clear the trees until after midnight. This is going to be a cold night. Not many of those left in the year, I think. I'll store the memory of it to recall when the summer heat oppresses me.

I'm going to try to get to more of the boxes in the garage tonight. Most of the contents being paper, I'm finding a lot of it bent and damp. A garage is no place to store books. Everything I dig out smells a bit musty, too. So far no black widows have leaped out at me, though. I'm sure I'll find some eventually. When I do, I should probably thank them for eating the bugs that would have eaten the books.

My untrimmed hair is beginning to irritate the hell out of me. It's way too much trouble to arrange a trip to the barber. I'm thinking about buying one of those razors that will let me cut it myself, and just buzz it into oblivion every couple of weeks. I'd look like crap, but at least there'd be nothing tickling my ears hour after hour.

Boxes now.