Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
He finished reading an article on a Tampa Bay news site. At the end of the article was something he’d never before seen: a button to report typos.
Impressed, he nodded. Many sites would benefit from such a button. They could also use a button to report grammar and punctuation errors.
Hell, his own modest site would do with those buttons.
Coffee in hand, he was ready to write like crazy one more time. That initial moment when he was about to begin to write was the best for him. The session could be great or mediocre. (Is there such a thing as a horrible writing session?) In that way, his sessions were something out of Schrödinger’s thinking: it might be good, it might be bad. Its dual state existed until the session was done.
Execflooftive (floofinition) – Animal is who part of management or shares in the decision-making process.”
In use: “Quite often, people will include their pets in their decision making, asking the animals, ‘What do you think I should do’, for example. But that often leads to the animals assuming they have execflooftive privileges to eat what they want, sleep wherever desired, and do whatever impulse seizes them.”
Monday muscled into the morning, declaring, “Ready or not, I am here.”
It’s October 17, 2022. Half of October has fled under the bridge and over the horizon of the past. But they tell us the past doesn’t really exist once it’s done; really, all the previous days have evaporated, except for what we hold in our minds.
After reaching 95 F yesterday, half a dozen degrees higher than prepared for, today will drop into the upper seventies, maybe striking 80 (26 C). It’s a clear enough sky for it. Nothing but blue from my vantage. Trees have at last begun shifting colors here. Local leaves are mostly going gold or yellow.
Monday’s sunrise tiptoed in at 7:26 this morning like it had a hangover. Sunset will come at 6:26 this evening, just eleven hours later. Next Sunday, we ‘fall back’ in most of the U.S., resetting our clocks to be an hour later, part of a hugely debated bi-annual ritual adopted as law last century.
The Neurons were spying on me this morning. No surprise, right? The tiny peckerheads often do. Going about the usuals needed to void my body and begin to re-assume form and manners for being among humans, I found myself examining a memory about meeting a man. After carefully checking it to see where it came from, I realized it was from a dream – ‘we’d met each other in a dream.’ Case closed, I decided, but the dream was suddenly so vivid.
Well, The Neurons heard ‘we’d me each other in a dream’ and called up Heart and “Magic Man” (1976) for the morning mental music stream. It’s been going over and over in an endless loop, kind of like how phone calls and meetings take place on Monday. Chuckle, chuckle.
So that’s the theme music for this October Monday. Stay positively oriented and negatively tested when it comes to COVID and its variants and the flu. It is definitely coffee time for me. I’m positive about it. Here’s Ann and Nancy and the band with their song. Cheers
Helifloof (floofinition) – An animal, particularly a pet, who pays close attention to another being, often a human.
In use: “The rescued puppy gained energy after a few days of care, showing a curious and playful nature while developing into a helifloof who was there for everything from people’s bathing to their eating and sleeping.”
*throat is cleared*
He has a small, really tiny rant today. Websites like to entice him with a headline. While he reads that article, a video plays about the same article. Then, though, another video about a different article begins.
Seriously, WTF? It’s chaotic and annoying. They must think we’re children, running around, high on sugar and caffeine, too buzzy to pay attention.
The winds brought in some news. A friend, Carol, was to meet another for lunch and whatever. Carol, known by habit and character to be punctual, didn’t show. The jilted date went to Carol’s house to learn why. The front door was unlocked, the television was on, and there was Carol, dressed and seated in front of the telly, all ready to go, already gone.
She was always fun at the annual Oscars Party, held at Judy’s house each year. The pandemic put a stop to that nonsense. Carol was also known as an enthusiastic reader and one ready for a small glass of white, and a refill. She was tidy and neat, never a hair out of place, always in stylish shoes, fast with a quip, ready to talk politics and the latest on the war, economy, or technology. She is, of course, irreplaceable, as they all are. News of her passing is going through the community like a high-speed boat.
All agree, we’ll certainly miss Carol. At least, the consensus says, she went out the best way, dressed and ready to go, with little apparent bother, and no long good-byes. She never was one for long good-byes.
He has the bug. It overtook him without warning and is as insistent and annoying as a mosquito visiting his ear canal. Acknowledging what must be done, he goes into his closet and begins pulling out clothes and trying them on. Yes, they’re his clothes, and not his wife’s – not that there’s anything wrong with that. Just a point of order.
First to be tried on is the flight suit that he last wore over thirty years ago. Does not fit, he finds. Hell, it can’t ever be tugged over his shoulders without his spouse’s help. It’s surprising how much it’s shrunk since he last put it on. He keeps his Air Force service dress uniform out of nostalgia, even though it also shrank.
Business suits are next. He formerly wore a lot of them during his time in marketing but hasn’t put one on for almost twenty years. They have also shrunk. He makes a mental note to google why some closets make clothes shrink. Maybe it’s the way he’s storing them or something. Jeans, pants, and shirts are pulled out, tested, and put into neat piles. In an hour, he’s collected three towers of clothes which have shrunk. He’ll donate them to charities.
The shrinking worries him, though. Maybe he should move his other clothes somewhere else before they shrink.
Yes, maybe, he decides.
Maybe.
Floofdunnit (floofinition) – An investigative effort to uncover what animal was behind an act.
In use: “Many pet owners with more than one floof will experience classic floofdunnits such as which creature stole their food, knocked over the trashcan, tore up a plant, or redistributed a cushion’s contents.”
