As the clock approaches the witching hour, which makes the day all done and gone, there’s a big long message to write to the sad soul who dared to relate a part of a bed bug saga on a message board yesterday already, and two kindly and thoughtful comments herein to be properly acknowledged. It won’t be possible to get to any of it until after midnight, as near as can be determined presently, and maybe not then. There are two hunks of fish heating up in the oven which may get eaten shortly.
The food truck came early, during a hoped for nap. The food was put away, but the nap wasn’t finished. With such plans disturbed, a brief state of disorientation can exist. Recovery was established soon enough, and yours truly remembered that the weekly pictures from last week had to be downloaded. There was a bit of mystery in that. They were remembered due to a glance at the email home page when it accidentally popped into view. It lists the last couple of unread things. It was a good twenty letters back.
Thoughts are with the lady who delivered things for the drug store, as she said goodbye. At seventy-something years old, she felt she should quit already as she wasn’t getting to things as she wished at home. A new era as well as new decade and new year is becoming firmly established. The format for these humble words, however, must remain. If anything gets done, the replies to the people need to get done. It’s still the “after Christmas season” anyway. That’s a kind of extension of Christmas.
Time to eat can be anytime.