The Game

I never liked you, the cat said with a smile.

I was trying to kill you when I slept on your head.

It wasn’t by coincidence that I tripped you again and again.

Nor were those love bites like you always said.

And the claws weren’t a whim when I scratched till you bled.

And if you believe that, you’ll believe this, too.

I never liked the kibble or any of the other food.

Your treats made me sick though I begged for more.

I didn’t like the tuna which you gave off a spoon.

It was all faked when chicken made me swoon.

And if you believe that, you’ll believe this, too.

I’m a cat and I like games.

I get bored and the days are too much the same.

So I do what I can to keep myself entertained.

Because I’m a cat and this was just another game.

Thursday’s Wandering Thought

His eyebrows had transmorgified once more. As a youth, he had pleasant eyebrows — two clean, mildly arched lines populated with fine, neat hairs. Later, his eyebrow hairs thickened and a unibrow developed. He didn’t much mind the unibrow because he was often favorably compared to another unibrower, actor Tom Selleck, a flattering comparison. His forties found his unibrow’s center fading. Meanwhile, thicker brows appeared. A wild bramble of hairs took over. Suddenly the comparisons shifted from Selleck to the Soviet leader, Brezhnev, or television commentator Andy Rooney.

Those brows faded and changed, too. Now his brows had taken on another actor’s look, developing a Sam Waterston flip, where the eyebrows darkened and thickened again, but pointed up.

Like his eyebrows had their own life and pursued their own style. He wondered what they were going to do next.

Another DIY Project

I noticed that the air blowing out of our furnace vents seems weak this year. Something needed to be done. Shouting, “To the net,” I did some research. The first thing I did was change the filter, which helped — that rascal was filthy. I then set a calendar reminder to check and change it every three months. Then I visited the crime scene for clues.

Our furnace is a Tempstar L9 unit horizontally mounted in the attic above the garage. I’ve been up there to deal with problems before so I’m comfortably familiar with it. It’s our original unit, so it’s almost sixteen years old. I’m embarrassed to admit, the blower hasn’t been cleaned since the capacitor failed ten years ago. I decided to do two things, based on research: clean the blower and increase its speed.

Both were easy, with the second part being easiest. The heating and cooling systems use the same blower and ducts (yeah, duh). But the wiring on my system can only specify that one of them has the higher blower setting, and that is the A/C. So I switched it so the heating has that setting for the winter. Before I started messing with the wires, I perused the manual’s wiring table and instructions and then photographed the original wire placement with my phone. I’ve learned to do that last anytime I’m dealing with switches and wires. It’s saved my butt a few times.

Now it’s all much improved. I’m once again grateful to the net and its helpful videos. Finishing, I set another calendar reminder for the summer, so I can go back up in there and switch over the wires for the air conditioning. Have a good one. Cheers

The Writing Math

I finished writing a novel today. It’s the first draft, so work will be required, but after that, you’ll be able to find it in a bookstore, library, computer, or in someone’s hand, pending editing, finding an agent or publisher, or self-publishing, and time.

It was fun work. Rewarding. I’m one of those pantsers, so I write a lot to learn a little. In my case, I wrote 200,000 words. I’ve already identified ten chapters for removal. See, besides being a pantser, I’m a wanderer as I write, rewriting, polishing, and editing as I explore the story. Still, more editing is needed for continuity, pacing, all those pesky grammar elements, and all the things that create a better novel.

Its total word count did surprise me. I knew it was a big book as I wrote it — come on, I’m in the forest, but I know how deep in the woods I am and can see all those trees around me. I was more surprised because I only actually put ass in seat in front of keyboard about two to two and a half hours per day. I started this thing about seven months ago, and time was taken off. for family emergencies, vacations, social obligations, and spousal duties. But seeing that final number prodded me to rush to a spreadsheet and do the numbers.

You can see, I didn’t write many words per day or hour. It’s amazing how much it adds up. Perseverance and persistence counts.

Now I need to pause, celebrate a little, and then begin executing the next phase. Cheers

Wednesday’s Wandering Thought

He always defends what he says by proclaiming that he’s just giving ‘the unvarnished truth’. But when others deliver the unvarnished truth to him, his defensiveness spikes to Mt. Everest levels.

Not a great surprise, as he lives in a very varnished bubble.

Tuesday’s Wandering Thought

The differences between them are growing after almost half of a century being together.

The Jack Spratt nursery rhyme goes, “Jack Spratt could eat no fat. His wife could eat no lean. And so between the two of them, they licked the platter clean.”

It feels to him like they’re living in a modern version of that, with heat substituted for food. She needs the high heat. He’s fine barefoot and in a light sweater, the heat at 66 F. They put the heater on for her even as she dons more and more layers of clothes, and he strips down.

It’s like, “Mike S doesn’t feel the cold, his wife could feel no heating. And so between the two of them, he sweats as she is freezing.”

A Dad Dream

I was at some wildly busy location, flitting between meeting people, attending parties, eating foods — especially desserts — and working on some new business.

I’d arrived there via a large, black and shiny car provided by my father. The car was luxurious, expensive, and impressive. After hunting for a parking space, I double-parked on the street because I was late. Promising myself to come back soon to move the car because I might be blocking another in, I rushed into the complex. Piles of food were on tables, and I was urged to eat. I did eat some finger food, and a small bit of dessert, just to be nice, I told them, all of us laughing. The food was fantastic, so I had a little more and then went on to meet with others.

I encountered Dad. He was involved in some new business venture. To support his business plan, he’d developed a table of projected aggregate growth and had me look it over. I did, then went to meet with his potential backers.

The backers’ side, people who were going to fund Dad’s business, included my mentor. The mentor — never actually seen in the dream but heard from via others — had worked up numbers for Dad’s new business, too. The numbers between the two camps were grossly different. The two sides used me as an intermediary to bridge the differences. I mostly dealt with Dad, telling him again and again that my mentor thought Dad’s numbers were overly optimistic. We argued the venture’s fine points. I wanted to see his business plan but piqued, he refused to show me. He wouldn’t even tell me what the business was about, annoying me.

I went back to the mentor and spoke to an assistant, explaining Dad’s logic, defending it, really, and then asked to see their plans and projections. They wouldn’t let me have them and sent me back to Dad.

I returned to my car to move it, but there still wasn’t anywhere else to put it. I needed to leave it there, which worried me, but another person, a stranger to me, assured me it was fine and not to worry about it. I put the car out of mind.

I went back to Dad. He and my mentor were going to meet later. Dad told me to check into my room, clean up and rest so that I could join them later.

I went outside to a huge round bricked plaza. Great crowds of people prowled and socialized there because some convention was going on. Finding the front desk, I was given my room key. It was round, with concentric wheels of numbers on it. Each wheel of numbers told me where I was to go to find my room, starting with the outer wheel. The numbers were all in gold but used different fonts. As I looked at the wheel, a smiling man sitting in a chair, holding a drink, legs crossed, told me that the outer wheel’s numbers referred to the stairs to use. He then explained in an aside to a woman sitting beside him that the keys often confused newcomers.

But I knew how to use the key and told him. The outer gold letters were 4-2. I went off and found the stairs labeled 4-2. Before I went up to my room, though, Dad came and gave me his business plan to look over. Sitting down, I discovered that he’d hugely scaled it down from what he’d told me. It seemed like a completely different idea from what he’d explained, too. This had to do with some kind of ice cream confectionary shop that served other food with the ice cream. They were going to start with twenty shops in seven locations.

The changes dismayed me. I warned him that competition already existed doing what he proposed, and that his plan wasn’t as unique or revolutionary as he seemed to think. He was unfazed because the mentor had told him it was a good idea, and they were going to proceed. I was summoned to go eat, so I left it at that and went to find my table.

Dream end.

Friday’s Wandering Thought

He found a bank card in an ATM. The machine was beeping and asking, “Are you done with your transaction?” No one else was around so he took the card into the bank and turned it over to a teller, telling them where he’d found it. As he was leaving, he heard people saying, “Oh, what a nice man.”

That surprised him. What else would you do with anything found but try to get it back to the owner in the best way possible?

An In-Law Dream

My Mother- and Father-in-law, both deceased, showed up in my dream last night, along with Dad, who is alive. I was young and with my in-laws at their house, along with Dad, who was visiting. I was outside when I turned and looked at their house. This dream house was nothing like any of the homes they lived in dring the time I knew them. They had changed this house, though, installing a flat front facade in a deep slate blue color that really appealed to me. I complimented them on the color change, enthusing about it. They then added a flat white latticed gate, which popped again the blue. Whole thing came across as stylish, modern, and sharp, which, honestly, counters their RL simple country style. Dad was helping with the gate. As they finished, I walked over and checked it out. I discovered two machine head screws at the bottom sticking out of the gate.

I complained about the screws sticking out, chiding them about not finishing in a joking way that we’d shared with one another throughout my adult hood. Dad and FIL replied that the screws were fine. But I went over to finish screwing them in. When I applied pressure, the screws slid in without any resistance. I said, “There’s nothing behind these screws. They won’t help at all.” They ignored that and walked off.

Dream shift, we’re inside, playing some silly game tossing a ball around that none of the others would ever do in RL. None were ever silly that way around me. I was back in the right corner, which had a hallway leading to another area. The walls were pale green. I began examining them more closely and discovered mold growing on the walls. I pointed this out to them and said that something needs to be done. When none of the rest responded, I began cleaning them.

Another dream shift found me outside again, in my pajamas. Bright sunshine lit the broad fields and short bushes. I knew it was mid-afternoon. Someone kicked a football around. I decided to go out and play. My FIL said as an aside that someone serious about it would not be barefoot and in their pajamas. Ignoring him, I went out after the ball. It bounced behind me. Catching it on a bounce, I raced across the field. A small girl in pink pajamas attempted to tackle me. She had no chance but I didn’t want to hurt her so I stopped and let get me.

Dream end.

Wednesday’s Wandering Thought

His reflection from the mirror startled him. He looked just like an Oompa-Loompa from Charley and the Chocolate Factory.

Just one of those days, he told himself with a suppressed sigh.

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