In my best old man voice
When the delivery truck arrived, this afternoon, the dog went into his best passive-agressive mode. That’s where he hopes there’ll be a dog biscuit onboard, but remembers to show off with his “hackles and loud voice” caricature of a real watch dog. Alas, he’s just a watcher. As for the milkbone… not today. Different driver.
I received a package, though. Contained a pair of “flash diffusers”, or as a layman might remark, “Little open-faced plastic boxes”. I’ve gone decades without any need to spread my light on the world, but figured that at half the usual price I should be prepared for whatever the photo-future requires. Hence, little plastic covers.
This was a local responsibility day. Two visits to the museum, to handle minimalist paper work. Yes, I’m part of the infrastructure, although I don’t actually cost anything. Low maintenance cheque-signer, for lack of a better description. But I take things personally; without me, the payroll doesn’t deliver benefits. That’s important, when one expects compensation for labour.
Outside, a crow that mimics a seagull. From dawn to dusk. I wonder what his long-term game will be. Following a ferry boat, waiting for fries?
Handled another e-deposit for son #3, after the mail brought governmental largesse. I try to imagine what life was like before this latest innovation. Oh, right. A trip to a local ATM, and the insertion of a stuffed envelope. Not more difficult, other than the requirement of a drive into town. In my best old man voice, “You kids have it so easy! Why, in my day, we had to fill out one of those confounded deposit slips AND do our own math!”
