Outside, in shortish pants
Outside, with my shovel, in shortish pants; time to clear the thin layer of barely ice from the deck. Temperatures are above the point where ice retains solidity, so the job didn’t take long. Barely enough time for my coffee to cool to the comfortable drinking point. We do live in balmy times. Now, I’m enough of a realist (with a long memory) to accept change. As in, winter might roll in, tomorrow or the next day. For now, though, I’m able to look outside and dream of summer. Perhaps not “tourist summer”, but something that doesn’t require keeping snowshoes on hand (or is it foot)?
The fine folks at Amazon really don’t care about oversizing a package. Today, something similar to the volume of a small loaf of bread, filled with two CR2032 cells. And the requisite warning stickers about the dangerout product contained inside. If ever a cell should go ballistic, the little packets of air inside the carton will contain most of the blast. And all this for free, what with the devil’s bargain signed by most of the delivery firms. Today, it was Purolator. Tomorrow? We shall see. The dog barks, without reading the sign on the van.
I got an email from Elon, offering the deal of a lifetime. For only one small investment, and then some monthly fees, I can have better ‘net. Bell, look at how simple this can be.
We lost another cousin to Covid, last evening. Don’t ever make the assumption that it can’t happen in your home. Stay safe. Mask up. Wash until the urge goes away. Sometime in the near future, science will wrestle this plague to the floor (I hope). And until then, I have to trust that my family and friends are imbued with some common sense.
