Seven fifty.
Home on the range. I got a very good sleep last night. Earlier I was concerned about being addicted to caffeine, but when I got up today feeling fine, I decided on my usual Snapples. I’d been overwrought with company three days in a row, so I was overdue for a break from people. Aesop, my dog, is breathing easily; no anxiety or nerves this morning. I’m not going to church. For some reason I’m reminiscing on eighth grade, before I ever bought a Rush album and when I still thought Jack London was pretty cool. There’s time now to reread The Call of the Wild if I want… The oak in my backyard drops acorns on the roof now and then with a sharp report like gunshots. Though it’s gray outside, the forecast calls for sunshine this afternoon and a high of 79 degrees. It’s a great day to recharge my introvert’s battery; to stay home quietly with a book. Aesop stretches himself, rousing from his little nap. I’ll feed him when he’s hungry. I just remembered: this would have been my mother’s birthday…
robgradens 