The Smell of Death

And so Christmas comes to an end.  This is not the picture I wanted to post today, but it is all that I have on the drive.  I have some I hope are better in the camera.  The last three photos, I might point out, were all film images shot on my little Olympus cameras, not Leica's.  And the film was ancient.

I used to have things tucked far back in the recesses of my mind.  Now I fear I don't have recesses.  I have concerns, but they are mundane and predictable.  I am still weird, but not when I lie down at night.

I face the challenges and setbacks with a grizzled toughness learned from reading literatures.  They have been like scriptures, and none of them have taught me to lie down and weep and beg for mercy.  Nope.  They have taught me stoic irony.

And so there is that.

I have begun my last year of work at the factory.  I am under obligation to retire at the end of the year.  I have been a straw boss for a long time now, and so as I undertake each annual task and realize that it is the last time I will do that, I feel a tinge of nostalgic sadness.  Next year at this time, who knows where I'll be?  Sitting at home writing a blog, probably.  But let's hope for something more exciting.  Maybe I'll become a photographer (smiling emoji).

I may or may not have mentioned that something has died under my house.  It has been terrible for just about two weeks now.  How long can it last?  I am tired of living with the smell of death.  I am not superstitious, but I hope it is not a sign.