Saturday’s Theme Music

Saturday’s daylight is a thin gruel. Clouds dilute its potency, taking the light from blazing whisky to tepid tea. Enough light has wormed through the parting clouds that snow is seen on the surrounding mountain ranges. That’s something to cheer on for today, March 5, 2022. They’ll be updating the water tables and snowpack information this week, giving us a peek into our future expectations vis-à-vis our drought and water situation this summer. Sunrise came at 6:40 AM and the sun’s dip beneath the horizon at daylight’s end will be at 6:06 PM. We’re grinding closer to twelve hours of daylight. Moving toward the time shift, too, just when I’m starting to feel sorted. Temperatures smack of late winter/early spring — let’s call it lawiearing, pronounced ‘la wearing’ — with the current thermometer reading of 40 F (but it feels like 34) and an expectation of 44 for the high, much like yesterday.

I have two sick cats today. One isn’t eating, vomits once in a while, and remains aloof. The other is being turned into the elephant cat with tumors but still pushes to eat, socialize, and drink water. Caring for them challenges every aspect of normalcy. My admiration for full-time caregivers continue to rise. They must have enormous capacities to care for others and patience that’s beyond human.

I have Chrissie Hynde and the Pretenders singing “Middle of the Road” from 1983 up in the morning mental music stream. I was first thinking about 1983 from a comment related to me from my wife about a friend. That was like the pebble that rolls down and creates an avalanche. Then, you know, I looked out of the window and wondered, “What’s that in the middle of the road?” That’s all the cheeky little neurons needed to light the song up in my head.

Come on, baby. Let’s get some coffee in the middle of the road. Stay positive, etc., knock on wood and fingers crossed that it’ll work well as masks are slipped away in a bureaucratic striptease. Here’s the song. Cheers

Charges

Charge the morning

Charge the night

Charge the day

Charge the light

Charge the phone

And the car as well

Charge it all

On the way to hell

Charge your buys

At the stores

Charge your donations

To the poor

Charge the present

With some crimes

Charge the past

With guilty signs

Charge the government

And politicians, too

Charge me

And I’ll charge you

Lost: Time

I looked in the closet

Under the bed

And in the clothes basket

And couldn’t find the time

Maybe I’d left it in the living room

Or in the car when I was out the other day

Doing errands, like buying food

It could have fallen out of my pocket

While I was walking

Or taking a nap

So I’d better check the sofa cushions

I retraced my steps

But the time didn’t turn up

I challenged my brain to remember

If I’d loaned it to someone

Or maybe gave it away to the Goodwill

While Marie Kondoing my life

After a while

I tried reading a book

Thinking that maybe by not doing something

And freeing my brain from that weighty effort

Of finding the time

I’ll remember what I did with the time

Because I just can’t find the time.

Friday’s Theme Music

And another Friday has attacked.

My energy is low this March 4, 2022. All three of my floof companions are sick. That begs the question, WTF? One is cancer, and we’re just doing comfort and quality of life for him. He fights on, impressing me with his spirit and determination. Death not going to take him by the neck without feeling his murder mittens and their deadly devices. The other two…is it a cold? Malaise? COVID for cats? Another matter? WTF.

It’s a gray and cold, damp day. Like charcoal briquets from last summer’s final grilling. The sun’s energy today would lose a heating competition with a fast-food restaurant’s lamps. Rose before quarter to seven this morning. Gonna stay up there, dealing with the clouds, until just after six this evening. Temperature is now 37 F and weather services say a fist of degrees more will take us to our high. The clouds — must be more than one, but who can say — are a featureless gray monolith, like someone infused the typical blue with a squirt of gray so pale, it doesn’t seem like a color.

The neurons folded a Tom Petty song into the morning mental music stream. The neurons thought it an appropriate response to my chatting with one of the ill felines. “You Don’t Know How it Feels” from 1994 seemed right, though. I was trying to understand what the cat was feeling. It’s him singing it to me. I know little about his life. He goes out, is gone a bit, returns and seems fine, but what did he witness out there? Anyone try to get him?

Those sentiments can be glued onto just about anyone. Beyond their physical manifestation, we rarely glimpse their true history. Their inner world is shut off to our senses. We don’t know how it feels to be them. They don’t know how it feels to be me.

Definitely time for coffee. Stay positive, test negative, etc. You should know it by now. And it’s changing. Fingers crossed, right? Sure.

Here’s Tom. Cheers

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