Steaming straight into old age
Thanks to my bulletins via social media, I learned that a classmate from high school is celebrating a birthday. And based on some mental math, I calculated that this is likely a double-digit moment. We are both looking at a half-century in the rear view mirror. I haven’t visited much with my cohort from secondary school. Long distances, evolving lives, whatever. But my memory for small details is astounding. I can tell you the musical instruments we played, respectively, and the parts of town where our families resided. Pretty good after so many years.
There’s a huge reunion coming up for that period in my life. I’ll not attend, and someone might notice my absence. Perhaps I can send a sibling, in my stead. The actual school is gone (replaced by a newer monument to public education. Even the name has been changed, which should protect the innocent.
Here, at home, the batteries in a couple of the thermostats are done. Dead. What would we do if winter suddenly returned? Not likely, but I tend to fret over the possibility.I may have drawn one too many cups of coffee; the belly is running on acid.
Don’t mind me. I’m in ramble mode, hoping to meet my word count. Imagine if I had something important to say, every day. That would make anyone tired. Hence the coffee.
Did I mention that we need more batteries for the various thermostats through the house? Maybe if I could read my texts, I could avoid silly questions (like that). Please forgive me, because I’m steaming straight into old age.
