Clearance for landing
The dog noticed first. A reflexive bark, followed by a rush to the window. I had to look, and I saw the familiar car pass by without turning in. Winter. Has a trick where it covers the driveway in snow of unknown depth, and like a hesitant diver… and so I suited up and headed out to move some snow from here to there. Almost a camouflage effort; no sense trying to get rid of the evidence. Winter.
I did send a belated text message, to announce clearance for landing on the next go-around.
Deep into leftovers. Any real coooking will be an effort for next year, when the racks in the refrigerator lose their Tupperware allocation, and a grocery trip offers something “delicious and substantial”. I still have that bag of potatoes, as a hedge against starvation. Cultural, I believe.
The postman caught me off guard. Imagine the odds of being at home for a parcel delivery. Didn’t even need a signature, so he could have left it in the SuperLocker, but maybe they also like to touch base with the householder. A chance to prove that delivery still has a place in our existence (even though we’ve done without for a quarter of a century). The press has made us all aware of “impending changes”; five years will go by so quickly, and then we’ll be equal in the eyes of the postmaster general.
Based on the end of year review of technical flops, I lead a blessed existence. The only close call is my hard drive with Windows 8.1 (I could have been an early adopter).
