Looking for the end of the year
If only I could bid farewell to ’22, but I have a suspicion that this year won’t just disappear. Pity.
My ability to hone new skills is running, full tilt. Haven’t bumped into many walls, now that we leave a few lights on around the place. Seriously. You may have seen one of those mime shows, where a box is described with the hands. It’s a real thing. Get turned around and the whole mental view of the near world can be lost in the translation. The question “how did that potted plant end up there” shows that we can lose the north, blindly. And then scramble to not cause cascading effects.
As the year runs out, I can proclaim great satisfaction with the nest I’ve built. I can find almost anything, except what I am looking for.
I will not be making resolutions for ’23, because I now live each day as it comes. Oh, wait. I do resolve not to wander far from home, without a guide. We have cliffs, and an ocean. Don’t want to discover that I swim poorly and can’t actually fly. My guide dog is hopeless. Following the white ball on the end of a cane: hopeless. Better to ask for directions. That is one of the skills that I do need to hone.
On a more serious tone, I have been told that “Audible” can bring me hours of distraction, now that TV is overkill. The patience to listen to random narrators is another skill that I lack. Always have. Am I too old to learn? Unsure. The need is there; now I have to see what I can do.
