Netfloof

Netfloof (floofinition) – Video content production company and streaming service operated by and provided to animals headquartered in Los Floofos, Califloofia. Founded in 1997, the company currently provides service to multiple planets and dimensions via quantum electronics.

In use: “Some of the original content that Netfloof offers includes shows such as House of Floofs and Floofless, offerings which mirror original human content.”

Thunderclap Newfloof

Thunderclap Newfloof (floofinition) – A Flooftish flock band formed by Pete Townshend and Kit Lambert in 1969. The group was originally active for two years. They released one album, Hollywood Floof, before disbanding. The band reformed in 2010 and released another album before disbanding again in 2012.

 In use: “The 1969 song by Thunderclap Newfloof, “Something in the Floof”, became a number one song in the Floofnited Kingdom, and has seen use in movies, television shows, commercials, and advertisements.”

The Goal

I’m swearing about modern technology again. It’s all so easy, so taken for granted, they have groomed me to complain.

Today’s target is my Fitbit. It needs recharged, again. Every few days, this takes place. I wear the thing almost 24/7, removing it only to save it from the showers. The rest of time finds it hugging my right wrist, monitoring my activity. Sure, it sends me an email when it needs recharged. That email arrives at 1:30 to 2:00 AM. I supposed, if I’m more rigorously disciplined and attentive, I can train myself to check it each night when I’ve reached my goal and see how much remains on the charge. Yeah, I could, but I’m lazy.

“It wouldn’t need to be recharged so much if you didn’t keep using it,” my wife observes.

A growl is given back. This is not time for humor. Charging the fitbit means removing it from my wrist and waiting while it charges. While it charges, I’m not collecting steps. My goal each day is twelve miles. It’s a new goal every morning, achieved every night. No, I haven’t walked it, didn’t run it, swim it, bike it; it’s an accumulation of twelve miles of activities, twelve miles achieved each day, something tangible.

Writing is different. I use word counts as mileposts but they don’t matter. I may have added words but the novel isn’t finished. I’m not certain how close to being done it is. I have guesses which makes sense, but I know, even when it’s ‘done’, it isn’t done. It needs revised and edited. Even then, it’s not done. It’s not published, not finalized in some concrete form. Until it reaches that final moment, it remains a work in progress. It’s like going from Earth to Mars; it’s gonna take a while.

So, I pursue my twelve miles every day, a goal established each morning, something achieved each night, something to make me feel good, damn it.

The Adulting Dream

I felt like the sole adult in this dream, hence the title. I seemed to be visiting Mom’s home, at least, at first. It’s not like any house that she lived in. She was there, however, along with sisters, wife, and many others.

The first act found me looking around Mom’s home with dismay. She always kept a clean and organized house; this place, although big, didn’t fit that description. As others were talking, I stared at something in an upper corner of the room. It appeared to be a giant cobweb. I called that to Mom’s attention. When she went to clean it, she discovered that it was an old Halloween decoration that she’d put up. She thought it so pretty, she left it up there.

The family, including me, dispersed to do other things. I remained dissatisfied about the state of the house, and walked around looking for impressions to vet my conclusion. It seemed like people weren’t paying attention to it. Crossing into the dining room, I discovered the floor was soaking wet. So was the furniture. In fact, water was splashing on the floor through the open window. I gathered that the sprinkler had been turned out with a window left open, and that the sprinkler had been left running.

I fetched Mom to show her what was going on, telling her to walk into the room so that she could see for herself. When she exclaimed about the floor being wet, I showed her the open window and the sprinkler. Then I told her that this was what I meant by people not paying attention to details, not thinking.

That ended act one. The next act began in the same location, but with new features, people, and furniture. Young adults were being prepped for a test. I had an impression that I was a visiting uncle. I barely knew these four young people. They were experiencing trouble with some of the test prep. Every once in a while, though, they’d break out singing the Queen song, “Somebody to Love”. They did a good job of it, too. But singing that song was disrupting their test prep.

Moving in, I stopped the singing and reminded everyone that they were preparing for a test. Then I pulled out one of the books and put it on a table. The table was one of many, a square made for one person. But the four nieces and nephews pulled up chairs and sat around this one table as I explained what the problem was about and how to solve it. They picked it up quickly and then began studying in earnest. I made the suggestion that since the test was open book, they have the book opened to that particular page, ready. That thought that was a great idea.

I then backed away and observed to one of their parents, “They do know that they need to be at separate desks, don’t they, and have separate books?” After he confirmed that was true, I suggested that they go ahead and set up like that. They did that. I walked to the door to leave. As I did, one nephew began singing “Somebody to Love” again. As the others took up the song, I interrupted and reminded them that they needed to get ready for the test. Then I left.

Outside the place, I passed a small, pale yellow school. About a dozen teenage girls were in front of it, complaining that they were bored and had nothing to do. They seemed about the ages of my nieces and nephews, back getting ready for the test. These two groups should come together, I thought. They’d be good for one another.

I returned to the test area, intent on telling them that. As I came in, one nephew began singing, “Somebody to Love”.

Dream end.

Sunday’s Theme Music

This is it! Sunday, February 28, 2021, the last day of February, the last day of the second month of 2021. From my perspective, it raced by like a Formula 1 machine. Lots of noise, here, and now it’s almost past.

What a way to go out. Here in Ashland, sunshine has roared in. Gone is the ice, snow, fog, rain, and mist. It’s only sun, sun, sun. The cats are all, “Mee-hoo!” (Actually, I made that last up. The cats are like, “Sunshine. Whatever. Let me out.”) Sunrise came at 6:48 AM and sunset will be at (fanfare) 6:00 PM, for eleven hours and twelve minutes of glorious sun. Temperature now is 42 degrees F, but we’re looking for highs in the upper fifties. It may be for just one day but I’ll accept this gift and enjoy it.

Today’s music is “This Is It” by Kenny Loggins and Michael McDonald (1979). The two share song-writing credits. Loggins is the primary performer and it hit the charts under his name, but McDonald adds vocal support and has played the song many times in concert.

It’s a good song for deciding you or we are making changes or ready for changes.

There’ve been times in my life,
I’ve been wonderin’ why.
still, somehow i believed we’d always survive.
now, i’m not so sure
you’re waiting here, one good reason to try
but, what more can i say? what’s left to provide?
(you think that maybe it’s over,)
(only if you want it to be.)
are you gonna wait for a sign, your miracle?
stand up and fight.
(this is it.)
make no mistake where you are.
(this is it.)
you back’s to the corner.
(this is it.)
don’t be a fool anymore.
(this is it.)
The waiting is over, no, don’t you run.

h/t to Metrolyrics.com

So, there it is, the theme music for the last day of the second month of the new year labeled 2021. Stay postive, test negative, wear a mask, and get vaccinated. That is all.

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