Tuesday, October 21, 2025, 51.4*, 95% RH, 0728
Like a fleece blanket, gray warms the sky inviting us back to sleep. The deck, the yard, the woods wear a carpet of leaves.; shades of the season cling to branches. The three out of practice don’t form a line. Zayne runs under the towel to the sofa. Ruger tells me I missed a spot. “You’re dry” I tell him. He only moves when Zsolt appears at the door. The towel hides his face; he turns in circles until he hears “Wait.” Ruger returns for a second dry.
I pushed the wrong button for coffee, received quarter of a cup. More things have come to visit my desk including 2 glasses of water, a tack hammer, measuring tape, picture hangars, packing tape and highlighters, yellow. The picture I hung yesterday standing on the top step of the stool, leaning over the cabinet Bruce built on which sits a do it-all printer (which doesn’t), needs to come down – it needs to be lower. I guess I’ll leave the tack hammer on my desk, a reminder. For now, the print doesn’t lean on my desk, block the path to raise the blinds. Something else will appear to perform that task.
Routines seldom used find themselves in memory again.
Photo: LJ Austin
