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Odds and Ends No. 45

I change my laptop operating systems
as often as some people change their
clothes. Not sure why. (I really don’t

want to know why. I’m sure it is a
sign of a major flaw. I don’t need to
know about any more of them; I have

my share.) Not walking today. I walked
Thunderbird two days in a row; the
temperature was 105° F both days. It

was excellent. I have to rest today as
I’m not sleeping as well as I would like.
(Doc appointment in July should fix

that.) When it is this hot I carry my two
banged up aluminum bottles as usual.
One fits in my belt carrier; the other

does not. I carry that one. A walking
stick in the other hand, changing mid
way. The third bottle, blue plastic, I

leave in the car while I walk. I fill all
of them with ice then water, but the
blue plastic bottle gets about half of

water that I drink on the way to the
parking lot. Ice melts completely in
the other two bottles on the walk.

I stop to change bottles about half
way. At the end of my walk there
might be half a bottle or less left.

And it is warm. So, when I get in my
car, I pour it over the ice in the blue
bottle. Voilà! I may not do things the

easy way, but it works for me. It is
a strange week. I think it was on
Monday. I ran to the bathroom

three times; and three times I
played Bejeweled Zen. (Let’s say
unplanned breaks.) I’m on level

forty-nine. Much too much of both
(Are you silently telling me to get a
life? I’ve been working on it for

years. Give me a break!) O do I need
sleep. I thank God for Flomax, but
I’m praying for an increase next

checkup. Or a miracle. Or both. The
air was still on both days with a
welcome gust of wind here and there.

The latest major Windows Pro update
was painless. CPU not running as hot
as it was before. Good thing.

Same goes for me. May or may not be
a good thing.

Categories: Poetry

Tagged as:


Poet, Writer, US Army (Retired)

I dreamed of writing when I was a youngster. The love of books and writing may have helped to dull the pain of severe sexual abuse as I was sexually abused by two men at my father’s place of work from age 8 to 12 or so. I learned about this for the first time when I was 50 years old. So, as a boy, reading was the only place I had to go to. My fantasy world was better and safer than my real world. I loved reading and writing.
Reading books and writing poetry are a joy to me still and are an important part of my life. (See my About Me page on my blog for the complete profile.)

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