Seasons change
Going to start with an earworm. A very Canadian one. The Guess Who, with No Time. Specifically, “Seasons change and so did I”.
Today, I rooted around downstairs until I found my big boots and my big coat. Why? Because the “big cold” is coming. Soon. This week. I needed to be outside, briefly, to bring an oversize plant pot back in from the road. Snow plows can move such things, without flinching. Anyhow, my time outside serves as a rude reminder that summer really is over. And I don’t like frosted toe tips.
Probably I’ll hinker down until spring, but if I must go outside, I shall dress appropriately.
I did take a quick look around, while I was put there. With the “Big Green Machine” parked inside, and a selection of random extension cords piled under other stuff, I don’t care when the snow comes. The man that takes care of moving the eventual snow piles won’t trip over them. All I have to do, now, is coil them into something neater, so I don’t trip over them while wandering around in the garage in the dark. A habit I should break, befire I break somehting important, like a toe.
Hey, all is good. I have no calls from odd Anerican banks, or a caring soul trying to register me for Meiicare. I really wish that geopgraphy was still taught in schl=ool systems elsewhere. I;m not obliged to answer the phone, every time it rings, but I have old school habits.
Our satellite receiver has gone back home. Years of hearing it reset at three a.m. are done.
