Barefoot comfort is fading, fast
Yesterday, my first “real” university professor died, at the historic age of 92. I remember going to his office, to make a request to follow his course (rules are rules are rules), and when he realized that he knew my family, there was smooth sailing. Of course, he knew everyone’s family, but I was young and hadn’t yet recognized that tiny detail. I attended lectures, took notes (they’re still in a box, not far away) and learned that governors were as silly as anyone else. Thank you, Father-Doctor.
My sleep is still restless, and I’m back to waiting for the sun to rise. On a cloudy day, less than dramatic. The house is very quiet in the early hours of a day, and I’ve learned that the refrigerator has its own schedule. As does the PVR, with an abrupt wake and shudder at 03h00. Must learn more about that.
We’re still able to BBQ, but the barefoot comfort is fading away. Down to 9 C at suppertime; a reminder that snow can’t hold off forever. Sure, there’s a margin, but my heated floor was a blessing, each time that I came back in from the flip-flop over fire. Yes, I own shoes.
Local business people are melancholic, as the federal government prepares to close a few of the sweeter loopholes. I particularly hate when they point out that they have “no pension to look forward to”. Hey, did you know that a pension is just another name for a saving account that your employer may force upon you? Guess “being in business” doesn’t make you financially informed…
