Cold rainy day. Me, I'm inside all day, lifting boxes, tossing around 35 lb loads with one hand. The clock reads 59 and 1/2 years but you'd never know it. Until the evening when the muscles and joints stiffen up. When I settle into my threadbare sofa with the uneven springs and I try to get up and answer the phone. Then it feels like 59 and 1/2. My dog Sniff on the sofa with me, neurotic Sniffles who licks the fabric of the sofa leaving little wet spots all over the cushions.
Cold rainy day, you can see your breath in the mist. Streetlights glow with a sodium halo, windshield wipers on intermittent wipe, not enough rain to use the regular wipe. Almost a fog. Going to be like this for days. Cabin fever sets in. No money to speak of, no money to do anything. Just watch TV. I've sworn off watching the news. Stick to the Travel Channel or Bravo or Turner South. Maybe catch a movie. Fix some dinner, fry up something real nice like sliced potatoes in olive oil with course ground pepper. Feed some to the Sniff. Take some pills, lay down on the sofa and close my eyes.
:: Tom 3:03 PM [+] ::
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