Spitball Army

Here are the facts: I had little money to my name. I had few friends. I could not afford a place to live. Correction to number 2: I had no friends. Unless you count the woman with whom I shared an office at the clinic, whose ample breasts pushed for freedom from within her nylon […]

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Two hours in, I survey the five laundry piles waiting and the wine rack in the next room. Three sheets to the wash or to the wind?

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I received two very nice letters from my wife today. You should read them. On second thought, maybe you wouldn’t enjoy them as much as I did.

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We talk about my cats, 15 years old, aged, sickly, how I’ll handle their certain fate. We talk: she, my 77-year-old mother, and I.

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Card is titled: “Custer Battlefield and National Cemetary, Montana.”

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Approximate playing time: 78 minutes and a duck.

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I spent most of the morning washing clothes. (My week’s laundry) I’ve still 3 things to wash besides myself. I hope I get them done this afternoon.

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…at least not very much. Because, if I did, this might be me.

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Yardwork day, excavating rocks, daydreaming. He piles the stones into a cairn, pretending the yapping mutt next door lies beneath.

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