Day 191 – 09/19/2020
Up at 5:30, looking at the quiet street under my windows… dark and still out. Hearing the morning trains passing through, and wondering what kind of sunrise is being staged just below the horizon. It’s a masochistic act to be awake this early – it stretches the hours like taffy and they feel exactly that thick and cloying – but early-to-bed, early-to-rise is a fact of life and I’m not giving up the early-to-bed part right now, especially heading into another time change. Oh jeez, time change. At least this one’s the easier of the two. Right now, with all of us confused as hell anyway, would be an opportune time to lock this one in – since it’s the real, actual time that God made – and be done with it.
Ruth Bader Ginsburg died yesterday and my blood ran cold when I heard. 2020’s fourth quarter may end us, but there’s no way out except right through the middle, so I’m linking arms with my people and staying ’til the closing credits.
And Saturday is here again, with its sweet routines and self-granted permission to do less than nothing. I’ll take it. If I can find a comfy enough hole to settle into I’ll slide on through another weekend and live to tell about it.
There’s a slight pink tinge in the eastern sky, but the sun is a no-show. Oh well, it’s not like we count on it every morning…
Ope – there it is, big, orange, perfectly round, floating in a sea of gray. And life goes on…
Playing for Time 
Sep 20, 2020 @ 16:25:06
This aligns perfectly with my vibe, so don’t mind if I linger around here time and again. :p
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Sep 20, 2020 @ 19:20:13
You wander around for as long and as often as you want.
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Sep 19, 2020 @ 14:44:33
It started all good and then went gloomy. Now I’ll have to think of all the sad times in my life.
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Sep 20, 2020 @ 08:15:20
You nailed my writing style, Kween, and you just got here! Yes, if you were in search of a melancholy empath with time on her hands to write about it, you’ve hit the motherlode. I’m glad you’re here, and you should know that sometimes I’m happy and goofy – I’m like Kansas weather, entirely fickle – so I hope you’ll stay.
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