One Hour and Thirty-Nine Minutes

I spent the afternoon over
thinking my options because
I don’t know what they are.

I didn’t want to think about
anything else so I watched a
stupid movie I missed in

nineteen eighty-one. It should
have stayed missed. It was
late. I studied and read

through dinner. I had enough
time for a movie. Hungry but
didn’t want to cook. I don’t

like salads, but I made a salad
and sat there for an hour and
thirty-nine minutes watching

pre-PC graphics that were
poor but not as bad as the
plot and acting. Of course I’d

say that; these graphics looked
like the Tempest arcade game
I was playing then. But no

thank you. I know you are
dying to ask me if I want to
go back. The answer is no.

Because I know what followed
and came before. It was hard
enough to live it the first time.

The kitchen will have to wait
until tomorrow morning; I’m
too tired. Loving from afar can

be tough. Bed after the movie
was my plan, but not my choice.
I’m sitting here instead. So,

what does all this mean? It means
that the only time I didn’t think of
you or miss you today was for

one hour and thirty-nine minutes.

Noises of the Night

The Bose clock blinked from
four twenty-nine to four
thirty. Falling asleep on the

sofa was hard enough given
the hard circumstances of the
day. I was up at eleven, one,

three, and four. Too tired to
sleep; too tired to get up.
That’s when I moved to the

loveseat to stare back at the
word “Vizio” in red staring at
me from the console across

the room. The WiFi hub
blinked intermittently as did I.
The only thing I could hear

was the hum of the refrigerator
turning off, the eerie sounds
coming from my stomach and

night noises. The nightlight
next to the stove was a comfort.
As the digital clock rolled over

to five ten, I tried not to dwell
on my failures about which the
Lord knows very well. All I could

think about was the coming
dawn, a hot cup of coffee or
and the noises of the night.


Wanted to write
something positive
but it wasn’t there.

Even the pronouns
dissolved in the air.
Not possible today.

The mind couldn’t
connect with what
the heart could no

longer touch. How
did the gap become
so wide?

Become a road that
could no longer be

Become a bridge that
couldn’t be crossed?
Or, become a time

and place where
there were no words
left and being out

of touch had become
so literal?

Odds and Ends No. 39

I was hoping for a haiku today, but my life and
the chaos whirling around me is bigger than a
haiku. The forecast for today was strong winds

and clouds of electronic chaos dissipating in
the late afternoon. She wanted Office back.
After getting her set up, I realized I wanted to

stay in my peaceful Linux world. I didn’t need
any more electronic chaos on the pile. Oddly,
my hand cramped while writing in my journal.

(Was that a sign?)

I tightened the screws on my bullet journal;
but when I looked at it, it didn’t look the same.
It may well have belonged to the Mad Hatter.

Not me. My brain couldn’t follow it. I gave in
to my electronic side and revisited Nozbe. I’m
there today. I wrote about my dilemma in my

journal. It looked more like something Poe
would write. I needed the chaos to come out
of my pen onto the paper. That is when I

thought about Nozbe again. Expensive? Yes.
I needed to come out of the storm into the
calm and float in electronic peace again.

(I need to type! Be right back. I want to see
what it feels like to type in my journal instead
of writing by hand. I love my pens but my

brain is moving faster than my pen can move.
I need to type.) Why is typing for me so
therapeutic? I feel better already. It felt good

to blister the keys and ramble on. Much like
I’m doing here. They texted her when they
landed. This time they landed in Mesa

instead of Phoenix. Add to that a stop for
an In-N-Out burger; they won’t get here for
another hour or so. Not quite dinner time

our time; after dinner time their time. They
left around three; got here around four, so
with the time change, they are starving.

Too many components. Too many places
to track data in the bullet journal for me.
Yes, I can make it the way I want, but

the computer geek in me doesn’t think
that way. I need to give it a rest for a few
days while my brain clears and this cold

goes away for good. Tonight is the last
night of my ten-day antibiotic run. My
throat is still sore; I hope I’ll wake up

Saturday with nothing. I still have to
use an inhaler for a few months. I hope
my body gets the message: No more

illness. My feet haven’t swelled for a
few weeks. A little pain, but no swelling.
Walking Thunderbird is in my future!

(Yes, another sign!)

I think I’m pulling out of being brain
weary. I feel like I’ve been in a fog far
too long. Could it be my breakfast?

Friday is Wally day. I made Gevalia.
That coffee is so good. Oddly, I have
had Cheerios (1 cup) for breakfast

every day for about two weeks. With
canned peaches. I love canned peaches.
A leftover memory from my Army

C-ration days. I put the 2% milk in
at the last moment before I sit down.
Soggy cereal is not an option.

Dinner is still up in the air. We’ll wait
until the kids get here then go from
there. There are good things ahead.

I’m already looking forward to coffee
tomorrow morning. I’m more relaxed.
Writing does that. I’m thankful for

what life brings today. And tomorrow.
And for the little things like openSUSE
Tumbleweed and Nozbe. All is well.