Friday seemed to be a long, long day. I got to work about a half hour late (I shut off the alarm and went back to sleep – it seemed like a good idea at the time.)
But the day just dragged on and on. I went home at lunch and ate another mediocre tomato sandwich (I’m so bummed.)
Back home after work, I stripped the bedding and started the wash. I stuck the John Stewart album Melissa had sent me in the computer (I don’t have a CD player) and cranked it up. It tore me up (but I knew it would). The only thing I can compare it to is early James Taylor music. I ‘m not sure why, but it touched me deeply.
I think you would have been born on a farm. He talks about Kansas but he touches this Michigan’s boy’s heart.
I warmed up two of the grilled ears of corn for my dinner.
I was chilling and dozing when the doorbell rang about 10:30 PM. I got up and grabbed the shotgun (I don’t live in the best neighborhood, here) and turned on the light in the living room. A young, well-built black guy turned and saw me with the shotgun and jumped over the railing! Crap! I hope he didn’t screw up my mulch.
I don’t know what that was about, but I racked the gun and went back to bed.
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