This is it, the final countdown, the last rodeo of the June 2023 season. Today is Friday, June 30, 2023. We blast off into July, 2023 tomorrow. To mark it, the weather directors have punched our temps up into the high nineties. Decent humidity, though, the kind that isn’t felt, but nor is it dry.

Had a wild dream night. Local scamper floofs A & B, commonly known as Tucker and Papi awoke me at 4:46 AM. Tucker did the awakening, tapping my hand with a claw until I began petting him. He wouldn’t be denied. Drifting through half-warm thoughts, I began working on my novel in my head. Finally fell asleep and dreamed, interweaving novel fixin’s with dream fixin’s. Papi then was in, eating — crunch, crunch — which, yeah, great, but then, he cried because he wanted out, and Tucker was a few feet away from the pet door, outside, watching, and Papi just don’t trust Tucker. He finally escaped because Tucker came in through the pet door, leaving the opening on the other side unguarded, letting Papi make a break. I put this altogether by hearing a noise, raising my head, peering, observing, and then lowering my head and trying to return to sleep. Reprised the dream/writing cycle, got interrupted by Tucker vigorously employing his scratching pad, returned to dreaming/writing, and then Tucker came back to request more finger action.

Writing while in bed trying to sleep is never good for me. I get into it, it excites me, and The Neurons won’t back down, and then the muses move in and provoke The Neurons. Then, though, then, the muses began playing Eddie Money, “Think I’m In Love” (1982) in the morning mental music stream. Six thirty came so I got up, opened windows and doors, and welcome a cup of coffee into my life.

Opened openings to combat the coming heat. We have air and it works fine but I’m not an A/C person. Dislike them in stores, restaurants, movie theaters, and the house, Just feels so damn chill to me. Rather sweat a bit. But most Americans seem adverse to sweating. One of those peeves for me.

So, here’s Eddie Money and the band. Let’s raise a toast to June’s final day. My toast has butter and grape jelly. BTW, you know how hard it is to get organic grape jelly these days? Most of ’em are loaded with high-fructose corn syrup, to which, as a progressive, I say, no thanks. Oh, well. Stay as pos as you can. Cheers