I've just deleted a post I'd spent the entire morning writing. It was a horrible diatribe against everything and everyone. I don't have the will to write another.
Just as I was finishing it and getting ready to post, I saw an animal run across the deck. Grey. Fast. The size of a raccoon or possum or cat. This is the second time I've seen such a thing in the past few months. I jumped up and ran to the door. I looked out but saw nothing. The deck is slick with dew, so I looked for prints. Nothing. My own feet were leaving precise impressions. It would not have been possible for a thing to run across the deck and not leave prints. I know I saw it, though. What the deuce?
My friend in Iceland is sending pictures--water falls and fjords and beaches and ocean. Last night she sent pictures of the Northern Lights.
"I am very happy," she wrote.
The girls who has now asked me out sent a photo from the cracker bed race in Grit City. She was with "the group." All girls, all pretty, but she was the prettiest which of course is good reason to send it.
I stayed in bed all day, so long in fact that I was later getting to my mother's. I feel I could do the same today.
No. . . I can't go down this road again. And so. . . a brief beginning to a holiday week.
Maybe it was a spirit animal. Maybe it was a demon.
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