What?

Not cold out here this morning, pleasantly cool. But that slightest breeze chills the neck, so inside to get the scarf Tass made that meant so much that freezing predawn in Cleveland, getting on the trolley and riding over to either +time or nothing forevermore. Much better, and a blanket over lap and legs.

On the scrolldown blogger menu there’s a Stats item that, click, goes to a screen showing, among other things, how many pageviews the blog got. Today, yesterday, pageviews total to date. Usually runs about 130 or so a day, sometimes several hundred, 4,603 pageviews last month, Why? I don’t understand, though a particular day’s title may cause a jump. Something over a thousand postings so far, 1,033 on +Time to be exact plus whatever was on CaringBridge up to the day we left Cleveland, something over a hundred thousand viewings so far: 103,468. Why anyone would read my nonsense I don’t understand except some are observing my state, slide into senility as mind and body age: is it time to send the wagon over to collect this pathetic refuse and take Linda out of her misery suffering through life with such a wretched creature? Apparently not yet. 

Who is watching and reading? The same cadre of elderly eligible bachelors who so hopefully and eagerly check the obits for my name every morning. Dream on.

Temptation to leave this quiet back porch where the only sound, now that the blasted water pump has finally shut down, is the occasional car driving by on 9th Street half a block away, and go out on the front porch.

There. Flat Bay, some light clouds. Sky is white blue, humidity must be up, eh? Quiet except for the sound that is either frogs, birds and crickets or my tinnitus. If you don't hear it too, it's me. Stepping out onto the upstairs front porch earlier I could hear the surf roar from the Gulf of Mexico, what, four miles away. Soft sound, waves rolling into the front yard, either a boat went by or tidal action.

Saturday morning. Prepare tomorrow’s adult Sunday school lesson: what? Either finish up the Nicene Creed or ...

Think I'll go out and pick a grapefruit for breakfast.

TW