Darkness veils the pool filling efforts
I returned, before dawn, to surreptitiously filling the pool. Nobody noticed, and by the time my morning coffee expressed, the pool was full. Now we can begin the dance of adding chemistry and waiting for the waters to clear. Can’t help the temperature.
My need for some new pants has been met. There’s one store (nameless) that I visit. Simple reasons. The clothes fit. The prices fit. The staff appears only in urgent situations or my presentation at the checkout. No confusing colour choices. Proximity. This might be my favourite store in town (after the neighbourhood food market).
With two big things done on my todo list, the next item involved son #3 and the lawn. I reminded him that tomorrow does come, eventually, and that waiting for the warmest moment of the afternoon was not strategically wise. He took the thinly veiled hint, and the lawn has a mowing done. Only two or three months more to go.
Time to enjoy a classic movie. War Games doesn’t fail. Whatever the technical anachronisms, the fact remains; we’re all one moment away from someone else screwing things up. When things go from bad to worse, our opinion won’t matter.
What to do now? I could go and read (almost through the latest Dan Brown potboiler). I could make music. I could convince the dog that going in and out and in and out is pointless. Or I could sleep. Eventually. Before that, a bowl of cheap ice cream takes the edge off the pizza that we used as an excuse for supper. Not even “real” pizza; this was flash frozen, sealed into plastic, assembly line fodder. The ice cream is like stomach ointment.
