Seeking Eno
Last night, I slept in my mother’s driveway. On purpose. I don’t think that the neighbours even noticed, although the sight of an oversize van that could not fit in the old garage might have given pause. This morning, as we listened to a party of parents and children waiting for the school bus, there was reason to reflect on how far life has evolved from when a school bus was required in our lives.
I’ve been inside, all day. In the house. Helped to set up a new
iPad, and drank coffee from the pod machine in the kitchen. A generation ago it would have required using the percolator. The dog has been living cautiously, after discovering the cat down in the basement. He knows so little. Sheltered mutt life.
My search for a new bottle of Eno seemed fruitless; the clerk at a neighbourhood pharmacy was unsure if the product still existed. A check in the corporate inventory said yes, but this was a tiny drug store. I left and went for a burger at the same chain restaurant we frequented back in the days of Woodstock. By luck, a stash of antacid was on sale in the “big city” so I had my courier pick up four bottles.
Long phone conversation with a cousin, catching up on the news since our last encounter about five or six summers ago. In her case, retirement, travel, impending nuptials… a trifecta.
Today’s peeve: I did a major upgrade on the iPad OS. They’ve modified the onscreen keyboard, whih ups my typing errors. How dare they?
