Since childhood. Late afternoon Sundays have this certain laziness and lost time feel to me.
Good time for a matinee. A nap. A tea dance and a drink. A bump. Something without commitment or bother.
Gray day. Snow due, maybe slush storm. Went to Boston for what was supposedly an hour trip; ended up, by fate, spending the whole day running around getting things done. I liked it. Downtown has that certain thing much like this feel for Sunday afternoons. But so much has changed. Not me.
Sure.
Got a hangnail type of calloused skin off of my middle right finger last week. It got some totally debilitating infection that made me ill for several days. What is this? Looks like gangrene, as it travels down the side of my throbbing blue-black finger. It's still there a week later. Ow and scary. This failure of an aging body sucks. Shall I testify?
No, we'd prefer you keep it to yourself. Please.
Life does go on.
tick tick tick
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