

Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
His diet amounted to the foods he chose for his health, things his body craved, and then the comfort foods for when his body says, “Hey, it was bad day. How ‘bout some carbs?”
The husband and wife were complaining about cutbacks. The city had removed the drop boxes for utility bills from ‘their’ end of town, necessitating a two mile walk or drive to drop the bill off. “Hardly a drop off,” he huffed.
She said, “They keep cutting services back but we keep paying more.”
He began laughing. “We sound just like our parents.” Standing, he said in a raised voice, “I remember when they delivered the mail twice a day and stamps were three cents.”
It was funny, even if it was all true. Someday, Gen Z will complain and say that they sound just like the Boomers.
They used to tell him, “It’s the thought that counts.” But as everyone knows who thought they won an election, or bought a lottery ticket and didn’t win, believed they were going to win a football game, or thought they had Wordle in two moves, it’s not the thought that counts. It’s the results.
I thought we’d play a game today. I’m not going to tell you what day of the week it is. Instead, I’ll give you a clue: it’s between Monday and Tuesday. As a second clue, I’ll tell you that it’s November 15, 2022, but don’t cheat and look at a calendar or computer to see which day of the week it is, alright? Cool. This should be fun.
It’s a bigly windy and sunny day out there. Winds roaring about like a big, drunk, hairy guy, shaking leaves on trees and shouting incoherently about what’s going on. People try to avoid him but he’s every dang place. Temperature has settled at 48 degrees F under these conditions but the weather they say it’ll get up to 52 F. I’m optimistic because yesterday saw us peak at 59 F. It was lovely except a wind would rake you once in a while, like reminding you, winter is looking over your shoulder. The sun came on stage at 7:01 AM while they’ll take their final bows in the valley at 4:49 this evening. Should be sunny all day, though.
On the personal front, Mom has gone in and out of the hospital again. Concerns about her appendix took her in last Thursday. They saw fluid in her appendix on imaging, put her on meds, drew blood and urine for the lab, and sent her home. Yesterday, they called her back in because they’d found Yokenella regensburgei in the lab results. Mom, a retired nurse, had never heard of it, and no wonder, because from what my net reading tells me, it’s pretty rare. The family tree is shook by this news. After bringing Mom in yesterday for more tests, they gave her meds and sent her home. We don’t know what they’re planning, but I read some case studies so we have some idea of what to expect. Fingers crossed for the tough old broad once again. She says she feels fine although the news wearied her.
For music, I’m going with “I Ain’t Worried” by OneRepublic. The song was featured in the Top Gun fillum this year but I haven’t seen the movie. People seemed to like it but we weren’t enticed enough to go sit in a theater with a mask on for a few hours.
The Neurons pulled the song up after my wife said something to me, a trivial matter to which I responded, “I’m not worried about it right now.” If you’re familiar with the song, it features this whistling part. Soon as I uttered my words, The Neurons started that whistling part. Now it’s traveling the morning mental music stream like the moon going around the Earth.
Okay, on to other things. Stay positive, etc. The coffee has already been tested and deemed useful for delivering a refreshing taste and giving me enough energy to breathe and think, though maybe not at the same time. More coffee will be needed for that. Here’s the song. Enjoy the whistling.
Cheers
Seeing movement on his vision’s edge, he thinks it’s his wife walking by and turns to speak to her.
It’s not his wife, but a short and plump elderly man.
He’s astonished. Other than the color of their jackets, the man looks nothing like his spouse.
Does he tell her about this incident? Do you think he has a death wish?
A recent television ad extolling Fitbit and Google’s virtues suggests, what if the two entities combined? I wondered, would they be called Goobit or Fitle?
He has noticed that as he gets older, he more frequently pronounces things as ‘just right’. It’s like he’d becoming one of the three bears who visit Goldilocks.
The coffee shop was half full. Looking around, he counted ten other patrons. Another four people were working behind the counter. All were female except him.
He was the only male presence. The realization made him feel a little conspicuous. Being the only one present conferred enormous responsibility on him.
At least in his mind.