Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofpers (floofinition) 1. A general term given by animals to the human collective that takes care of them. Origins: Worldwide web, late 1990s.
In Use: “Have some rough experiences as a puppy, Thor remained wary of the floofpers, whether they were offering pets, treats, shots, or shelter and friendship.”
2. Anyone who takes care of animals.
In Use: “Robert had never planned to be a floofpers, but as they often say, there’s a floof distribution system, and it usually delivers the right animal to the right person.”
Fall has slid into the interseason space called autmer. Autumn with summer flavors. Night is mostly when we feel autumn. The air has some cold chompers. And the day looks like autumn. But then the sun strikes and summer strolls in.
All this causes a hot and cold thing at night. We’re not running heat nor air conditioning. Windows are closed day and night, except for mid-morning and mid-evening spurts to freshen the air. I end up running hot and cold in bed and sleep with one leg and that half of my body out from other the covers and the other side keeping warm under the sheets and blankets. Whole Jekyll/Hyde thing.
It’s always my left side that is out, too hot to be under cover. The right side wants shelter. Feels like my body might be striving to create some overworked political metaphor.
Mood: irasperanky
Awoke with a nostalgia for change and thought, someday. The Neurons filled in the date as Someday, October 6, 2024. Sounds like a potential novel title.
Someday is another autmer day, kicking off in the low fifties. Building on sunshine and blue skies, the final temperature measurement should sing at about 86 degrees F. Air quality is good, two, single digits to double digits surfing the teens and low twenties. Sweet air.
Less than 30 days until Election Day 2024. Vote blue.
So much news to potentially write about that I shun writing about any of it. Sumovit is so damn depressing that it pulls my thoughts down into some deep mud and I just don’t wanna be there today. Weary of the effort for now. Turning attention to other things. Like a requirement to attend another’s seventieth birthday party.
Sounds like a good thing, right? A party, yea! Cake, snacks, all that. Starts at 2 PM. Right in the afternoon’s meat.
But. The cranky bug bit me in the ass today. Think it might have happened when I was sitting on the can doing the daily. A cranky infection has spread, affecting my spirit. Gotta grit my teeth to go fete my casual friend. I have many other things I want or should be doing. As always, a balance between the do’s — must, will, want, can’t do — must be struck. Then you ride the wave of the day best you can. Fall off, get back up, start riding again.
Today’s music is “I Will Follow” by U2. Came out in 1980. Entered the morning mental music stream (Trademark someday) today. Once again, cats caused The Neuron’s choices. Talking to my floofs, I was urging them to follow me if they want their breakfast. Papi the ginger blade was eagerly willing — “Let’s go let’s go let’s go” were his reaction — but Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) seemed to be collecting flies. Finally, with some mild irritation and exasperation — let’s call it irasperation — Tucker did a slow roll stroll another direction. “Okay,” I said. “I will follow you.” And that’s when U2 kicked off with their 1980 rocker in my head.
Stay positive. Stay up on your vaccination against the cranky bug. Crankiness can spread faster than the flu. Coffee has made its grand entrance. Here’s the music. Walk away, walk away, I will follow. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 