Forestalling the Inevitable

My son is soon going to nag me about my dearth of activity here. He will point out that if I do not write, I cannot call myself a writer. I must auth to be an author. And so I am writing.

I have no plan here. I'm freewheeling without a topic. That's because I truly don't have a topic.

I spent a wonderful week with my sister and her friend here at my house. We went to tea at a real teahouse because that is a "chick" thing and there were some "chicks" – well perhaps old hens, but still – here to not annoy any testosterone driven human to distraction. We had tea. It was fun.

I then went up to Ohio to offset the time my sister graciously gave to me here. We worked every day and played while we worked, after we worked, and even before we worked. We went out to eat several times. I learned that Chinese food is great with cannoli for dessert.

I learned that renting a car for a one-way trip is prohibitively expensive. I got a lot of sage and imperious "Yes, of course" type comments when I mentioned this. I wish someone had yes-of-coursed me prior to my journey but I can't alter than now. I found a cheap flight home.

I got back home three days later than I expected and it was hot and humid here. It had cooled off in Ohio and I had been verging on cold for the last few days having brought only clothing for hot weather. That was cured immediately after leaving the plane.

I've gotten back to writing in other places and now I need to write something here. That way I can claim to be a writer.

What I need to do now is find a job. I hate looking for a job. I'm old and cranky. I know I'm old and cranky. I'm capable and old and cranky. Many people seem to prefer hiring young and incapable and perky. And they then complain when Mondays find them without a full staff. I do not party on weekends and show up for work whenever I'm scheduled. But I'm old.

I also may need to buy a car. My car is making a funny noise. I mentioned the funny noise months ago but was successfully ignored by the guy in charge of the cars. When that same guy drove the car for some distance – lo and behold, it was making a funny noise. The noise may be a symptom of an expensive problem. Therefore, I may be buying a new car.

I'm also trying to readjust to the boredom of my life. Perhaps if I got a job, that part would be ameliorated. Perhaps I would just be filling my time. But what have I got an abundance of? Time.

I believe this is enough rambling and before I get too cranky, I should stop. And so I will.