Summer Routine

I should have taken notes.  I think I had something in mind to write about yesterday, but I stayed up too late and slept too poorly and now am buzzing with fatigue first thing in the morning.  My head is crickets.  

I did change my routine, though.  Quite.  And the difference feels good. . . for now.  I am calling it my "Summer Routine," a much less strenuous, more flexible one that is good for travel.  If I decide to travel.  I was thinking of driving across Texas. . . just kidding.  Not this time of year.  But I was thinking of staying on one of the coasts for a bit.  The trouble is now, though, that every beach is a tourist destination.  There are no more mom and pop motels with swimming pools in the middle and shuffle board courts out front.  Not on the beach, anyway.  I wonder is where people get all their money for vacations?  I chose factory work.  It must have been a mistake.  

The boys at the gym are all back in town this week, and so yesterday they made plans to meet up on Wednesday night.  They all want to go back to the Irish bar so they can see "Little Hands" again.  They all want to shake the hand of the pretty waitress to see if I was telling the truth when I said it felt freakishly small.  It has become an obsession for them.  

"At least when she holds your pecker it will look big," they laugh.  

"Oh, sure. . . I'll take a picture."  

That's the way gymroids talk.  All the time.  It is always a game of wit.  You can't get your feelings hurt or you will have to get new friends.  

I couldn't care less, though, one way or another.  Sometimes it is just real stupid.  

The girl who won't ask me out kept me informed of her conference day.  Pictures of her holding coffee in the morning, photos of her lunch, her afternoon nap, more coffee, the conference dinner and then after the final session of the night.  And then the bedtime routine.  I gave her a compliment.  

"Really?"

"Why would I lie?"

"I don't know you that well."

"That is very true."

I was at the computer working on old picture files and listening to my music catalog.  It is a good catalog.  I'm impressed.  I haven't listened to it for a long while.  So I was digging through folders of photographs, seeing things anew, choosing one, cooking it up which takes a very long time, the music a magic carpet, the hands of the clock twirling.  It was after midnight when I said it was time for bed.  

"Good night, sweet friend."

"You're an idiot.  You need to ask her out."

That's what people say.  They just don't know.  She is getting a divorce.  Can you imagine the emotional and psychological turmoil?  And I. . . I'm damaged goods for sure.  As the Wicked Witch of the West once said, "These things take time."

There have been some cases of malaria in my own home state recently.  No shit.  Cities and counties used to spray for mosquitoes.  Now they don't.  They've given that over to the private contractors like Mosquito Mike who will come to your house and clear your yard of the pesky rascals.  Tell me that isn't more efficient.  

There is a rash of new cases of fungal infections in the U.S. that have doctors scrambling.  Candida auris.  

Humans have taken so much water from underground reservoirs that the earth's axis has shifted.  Our rotation on our shifting axis is wobbly.  Not to worry.  Nothing to see here.  

The earth is burning up, but what we need to keep an eye on is how we use personal pronouns.  If we can just solve this problem, things will be o.k.  

"I'm not feeling very respected here."  

This post has taken a nasty turn.  It is my lack of sleep, I'm sure.  I'm really a sweet boy.  I don't know why anyone was ever mean to me.  

Last song of the night.  

And now. . . SWISH!

"Good morning :)"