Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
He took his socks off in the office, balled them up and set them on the desk.
His partner had done the laundry earlier. A few hours later, she walked in and tossed a pair of socks on the bed. Seeing them, he put them away in his sock drawer. It was only when he went to put on his socks and shoes to walk up and check the mail did he realize what had happened.
He kept quiet as he typed, making as little noise as possible. Muses had turned out in a large number and were offering terrific guidance. He didn’t want to scare them off.
High Floof (floofinition) – 1. In the Floofodoxy Church, the High Floof is the floofiest position, responsible for ruling over other floofs regarding floof matters.
In use: “As the High Floof, Sammy interpreted what the humans were saying and told the other pets how to respond. None of the household pets ever did anything without Sammy’s sayso.”
2. An animal that habitually prefers a higher physical location.
In use: “While Misty was an underfloof, always at foot level, Mo was a high floof, jumping up onto the cat tree, irritating the felines with his canine presence.”
After knowing one another for fifty-one years, including forty-five years of marriage, they remain a couple separated by a common language, even though they’re both American.
Floofdies (floofinition) – 1. Underwear which an animal likes to sleep on.
In use: “Michael’s boxers became Tucker’s floofdies as soon as Michael removed them, delaying their final journey to the clothes hamper.”
2. Plural of floofdy, floof culture slang for ‘floof buddy’.
In use: “Returning home was made a richer and more satisfying experience because of the sweet greetings their floofdies gave them.
He came in from wading in the ocean in the Pacific northwest and told his wife, “The water wasn’t cold.”
She looked surprised. “It wasn’t?”
“No.” He smiled. “It was FUCKING FREEZING.”
From my perspective, yesterday was a gorgeous Oregon coast day. We’re in Yachats. No marine layer yesterday. Never very warm, the sun crossed a sky unfettered by clouds. Breezes reigned themselves in, only sporadically doing a mad dash. Never went over 65 F, I don’t think.
We have clouds over the sea and a slight marine layer this morning. They deliver pearly strands of blues, grays, and whites, a sight that draw contented sighs. Wind action is mild. It’s about 15 C now and will climb to 65 F again. The daylight portion of the show kicked off at 5;47 AM and will play until 8:46 PM.
The Neurons introduced a 1995 Ozzy Osbourne song called “Perry Mason” into the morning mental music stream. It’s been done as theme music back in 2017. I reckon the Jan 6 Hearing prompted The Neurons into this musical selection. I didn’t bother asking; they frequently ignore my questions.
So, stay positive, yeah? You know the rest, right? Sure. Guess what’s by my right hand? If you said, a coffee cup full of Thundermuck, then you’re a winner. Here’s the music. I’m taking my Thundermuck out onto the patio. Cheers
Sunshine rolled over the horizon and onto the ocean at 5:43 AM. It’s Wednesday, the mid-point for the week, July 13, 2022. Marine layers and stout winds asserted their presence yesterday. I was cleaning sand out of, ah, everywhere last night, again and again, fine, gritty sand. The marine layer has retreated for today. The wind is on break. Sunshine warms a blue sky. A faraway thule layer rests on the ocean’s deep blue horizon. Current temp is a cool but pleasant 15 C. Won’t get much past 66 F today. Sunset will take us into night at 9 PM.
A wild night of dreams is in my mental rearview. The Neurons extracted “Cover Me” by Bruce Springsteen from the dreams and planted it in my morning mental music stream. “Why?” I asked. Yes, why?
The Neuron smirked. “Use your brain.”
“I thought that’s what you guys are.”
The Neurons snorted. “Think again.”
So, it’s “Cover Me” for Wednesday’s theme music. Stay posi, test negy, etc. I’ve already had my coffee, thanks. The Neurons demanded it before they’d even speak to me. Hope you have a wonderful way wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, short of hurting others, right? Yeah. Let’s be reasonable.
Here’s the song. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 