a good rain, finally

I can’t believe Sammy let me sleep, unless I was so dead tired that I slept through his yowling.

And we got a good rain, finally. Though, I don’t suppose we can call it a drought breaker. The ground still looks like it is cracking up. But at least it was a real rain - some relief, and we are not out of this weather system yet. Waiting until the middle of August to get some decent storms does not seem quite as desperate now as it did a few days ago.

a dream of being young

In a dream, I firmly decided that I should learn Spanish. All smart people know more than a single language! In the light of morning, and in one’s full conscious mind, the project seems especially silly and pointless at fifty. Moreover, even if I were still in my twenties, considering the way I live, so isolated and homebound, there wouldn’t seem to be much point in it, just to be able to read Spanish books and watch Spanish TV. But I appreciate the thought. Maybe it’s a dream of being young, when one is hungry for self-improvement with a whole lifetime lying before you. I wonder if I will have more of such dreams as I decline into my elder years.

my journaling

Last night, I felt the strongest compulsion to give up on my scribble blog.

The better part of my labor, ever since I returned home a failure, has been dedicated to recording the mortifying details of my lowly life, continued in mad earnestness for the past ten years in the blogosphere, hanging out my piss-stained bedsheets for all the world to see. In that glum mood I was thinking that it was only habit that kept this madness going.

Now I can see that I need to remember an old lesson: that I am given to little depressive episodes in the evening. I need to test my moods and feelings by what I think in the clear light of morning after a good night’s sleep. The page-to-be-written-upon is the best friend I have. Someone I can really talk with.

Making it public, however, probably is another matter. I guess I still have a little vaingloriousness: I want to give the world a chance to recognize the genius that was me, to feel the depth of my humanity. I suppose it is even this chance that helps to keep me motivated to continue with my journaling.

the way summer afternoons are meant to be

The cats may not like being inside on summer days, but we are now napping together well. No yowling, no catfighting, no whining, just sweet dozing, the way summer afternoons are meant to be.

Ms. Walker

Pop is dousing the house in air freshener. I wonder if Ms. Walker is coming over this time. It’s getting close to dinner time, too. Fuck! And it would have to be on one of our rare wet days when the cats are penned up in the house.

* * * *

2010

That’s not a good sign. They have returned and Pop parked his car behind her truck, penning the truck against the house, which suggests she is not leaving anytime too soon. Remember, Ms. Walker likes to stay the night, or at least she doesn’t mind it, and I would go ‘all in’ that she will be staying tonight, as grisly as the images are that come to mind - those obese, geriatric bodies together.

Gabe says, “At least your dad knows how to get a woman.”

I’d rather be lonely.

“And so you are. I hope you’re happy.”

* * * *

Wow, taking care of my after-dinner chores, I decide to check to see if Coco and Sammy are ready to race out of the big room and be free of the unknown human, and I am surprised to find the door locked. Pop is obviously pretty intense about this. Incidentally, Coco apparently made it out of the room before Pop and Ms. Walker took over, and she is with me in the office, which takes some of pressure off my nerves.

Gabe laughs, “Pretty intense. Imagine how you would be if I were here as your guest!”

Now?

She punches me on the shoulder, rather hard. “No, ten years ago! You know, when my tits still had some life in them, and you were desperate to get your hands and mouth and who knows what creepy thing else on them.”

I guess. But at least we weren’t elderly.

She sighs, “I keep telling you that romance and sex is relative, but YOU. DO. NOT. WANT. TO. HEAR.”

What did you say?

* * * *

I would have lost my bet. She ended up leaving after all. Though, it was clear that the plan was for her to stay. I heard her apologizing about leaving.

Daimon says, “Dodged a bullet, eh?”

It is a relief.

Gabe says, “That’s generous. You do not want your old dad to know a little contentment. You really are something.”

Well, he has had quite a bit of that, even if it was long ago. I think I need my sleep more.