Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Duofloof (floofintion) – A pair of animals together so frequently, they must considered as one.
In use: “Rescues who came into the household together as orphans, the dog, Hera, and the cat, Zeus, were a duofloof, on the move as one to eat, drink, play, sleep, and find cuddles with their people.”
The time was checked.
4:14 AM.
About two hours before sunrise.
I listened for noises and heard nothing. One cat was asleep by my head. My wife was asleep. I don’t know the other cat’s whereabouts. He’s still young and likes the night life. I blamed him for whatever noise I’d heard and settled back toward sleep mode, thinking about the dreams I’d been experiencing. Up top was the cow puzzle dream. The neurons began playing “The Midnight Special” by CCR.
Hi. Today is Friday, April 29, 2022. Looks like the perpetual battle between clouds and sunshine is entering another rain. The sun made a bold move, striding in at 6:09 AM, but the clouds have lined up some towering heavies to the northwest. Our temperature is 42 F, but it’s a damp one with the remains of yesterday’s watery hours lending its effect. We expect 65 F as our high before the sun leaves our stage at 8:08 PM.
Thinking about using “The Midnight Special” as today’s theme music, I searched and confirmed that I used it last year on May 10. In the post, I noted that my kidney stone had passed.
I decided to do something other than “The Midnight Special” as today’s theme song. The neurons responded with Shawn Mullins and “California”, a song my spouse actively dislikes. The song was never released as a single that I know but I’ve heard it periodically and enjoy its details about the people and their lives – driving a Trans Am, listening to Bob Dylan, etc., and also enjoy the guitar and organ play, as well as Shawn’s voice. There’s a Tom Petty vibe to Mullins’ music, especially “California”. So here we are.
Stay positive, and so on, for another day, or perhaps another month or year, or more. Coffee is speaking up in the other room. I’m going to go see what it wants. Cheers
I was a younger man. At first I saw myself from a distance, trudging over green rolling hills under a cloudy sky, but then I dreamed zoomed in and only saw myself from the waist up, following as I walked.
I was walking among grazing black and white cows. Most ignored me. I wasn’t concerned, and it seemed natural that I walked among cows. Beams of sunshine would sometimes break through and dazzle me, and I’d put a hand up to shield my eyes.
The sense or awareness came over me that this was familiar. Slowing and thinking, I suddenly knew that I was in a jigsaw puzzle. I stopped. My dream camera panned out. I could clearly discern the pieces’ shape. Some were missing.
How, I asked, is that possible? Where were the pieces? I thought the puzzle was completed. Then, I realized with a greater shock, how can the cows be alive, eating, and moving, if it’s a jigsaw puzzle? How could the clouds move and the wind blow? How could I be moving and thinking if I’m in a puzzle?
Dream end, as I woke up.
Another minor problem, another simple repair, and more gratitude for the net and its plethora of DIY videos.
This case involved a running toilet. First thought: change the flapper valve. But when I was checking it out, I saw how much the Fluidmaster fill valve was leaking. Ah. How is thing fixed or replaced? I have minor to zero experience with these things, so it was to the net!
First, toilets are fascinating modern devices. Their designs have been refined. They’re pretty efficient relative to the past, robust, and modular. Fixing things on them is stunningly easy.
Second, I was astonished to learn recommendations that the fill valve be replaced every five years. I have never in my life seen one replaced.
Once I identified what I had installed inside my toilet, I headed down to our local Ace hardware. The right piece was quickly found and paid for, eight dollars after my loyalty coupon was supplied.
Videos demonstrated how remarkably easy it all is. They usually took five to fifteen minutes. I figured that I would need thirty to forty. I was right. It wasn’t a matter of incompetence, but access. The fill valve connects to the feed line through a port in the cistern’s bottom. The toilet’s water supply needs to be shut off, the cistern drained, and then the feed line disconnected. Getting my hands around the plastic nuts to disconnect the water supply — and then tightening them again at the end — was the most challenging aspect.
Yes, I feel pleased, even satisfied. I’ve learned more, saved a little money, and was rewarded with a muffin for my effort.
It was all win.
I was in water, which seemed to be an ocean or sea. Others were in the water, which was a light aquamarine in color. An azure sky ruled. Waves licked and tumbled over flat, white, sandy beaches.
The warm water wasn’t up to my waist, but reached the bottom of my trunks, which were flowers on dark green. I soon noticed the water was rising. I couldn’t figure out why. Others didn’t seem to notice, or maybe just weren’t commenting. As the water rose over my waist, I decided to go ashore.
I found I couldn’t. The waves weren’t any more threatening but strong currents were dragging me further into the water. It was happening to everyone. All were struggling to keep from being taken out to sea.
I tried fighting the current and lost. Then I thought, maybe I could go with the current and then break free and return to land via another direction. I quickly learned that wasn’t feasible.
The water was up to my neck. It was warm and comfortable but frightening as I coped with a fear that I could drown. I tried again striking out for the shore but ended up with water up to my chin and splashing into my mouth.
I dove under. The water was darker and colder. I kicked out and then started using my arms, swimming underwater, taking whatever the currents let me. I wasn’t sure what direction I was going or where the land was. The water kept growing darker and colder.
I came free. I don’t know how or where. I suddenly found myself striding over volcanic rocks, sputtering water and gasping for air. I was on land but didn’t know how I’d made it. Looking back for the beach, I found it. The water was still that pleasant aquamarine with light waves, but darkening clouds had gathered overhead.
Dream end.
Neurons awoke me this morning with their BJ Thomas imitation of “Raindrops are falling on the roof.”
Yes, it’s Thursday, and it’s raining. Nada wrong with that; rain is needed here. Fingers crossed that it’ll mitigate the drought’s impact and the wildfire season. Yes, it’s a weird thing that we’re in a drought and it’s raining. It’s all about the water levels and earth’s moisture letels, I’m told.
Today is 4/28/2022. Sun drop will come at 8:07 PM. Clouds have won the day, smothering the sunshine with plush gray sheets. With the temperature now at 45 F, our high of 57 F isn’t far off. The sunrise, a thin mélange of gray light through the windows, was at 6:11 AM.
I’m in a funk today. It’s a regular thing. About every twenty-nine days I cycle into a dark place. I don’t stay there long, but I always need to be cognizant of when it’s come so I don’t act stupid, let angry emotions rule me, or walk away from things. Patience must be exercised as I wait to rise back out of it.
To help me, the neurons have dug up The Brothers Johnson playing “Get the Funk Out Ma Face” from 1976. I’m sure I learned this song from hearing it in the barracks when I was on an unaccompanied assignment to Clark AB in the Philippines. It’s stayed with me, a strong and defiant song.
Stay positive, test negative, and so on and so forth, as most of us have been trying to do. Coffee is now serenading my neurons, trying to lure me into the kitchen. I think it’s working. Have a better one.
Cheers
Perfloofla (floofinition) – Shady spot, typically by or around pergolas, porches, or gazebos, where animals like resting out of the sun.
In use: “When the sun rose to its highest, hottest point, turning the outside into an air fryer, the cats and dogs all slipped into perflooflas by the bushes along the fence. Casey knew where to look for them to ensure they’re okay, peering out there to find each motionless furry form, reassuring himself that all was well with his floofies.”
Michael Seidel, writer 