Thursday dawns a humid and overcast 66°. The trees are in full leaf, and the yard is green. But Texas is still in a long drought, so we cautiously wait out the spring by avoiding garden shops and seed catalogues. Water is too dear to waste on much greenery. A modulating whine from Snookums morning run on the tread mill intrudes into the soft silence, and Kippur gently yeeps from her cage as she goes through another molt. Somewhere off in the distance, a diesel motor rumbles. Most likely a concrete pump in the development nearby. So much for my bucolic countryside and quiet country lane. The passing of an era goes lamented only by the aged.
And my old pick ’em up truck sits out in the yard where I left it yesterday after its annual bath. Today it gets a safety inspection. The sticker is two months overdue, and I hope to duck the law on the way to the inspection station. I feel like such a criminal! I considered selling it a few times since I usually put less than a thousand miles on it a year. It occasionally gets used to haul a sheet of plywood, or to run down to the village gas emporium for lawn-mower gas. If I am careless about putting the trickle charger on it, I get rewarded for my irresponsibility by having to put a new battery in it. Gone are the days of a $50 dollar battery. This year it was $125. *sob!*.
I must be getting stronger. Yesterday, under the loving lashes of the Big Nurses flail, I managed the full run of cardio exercisers without pain. Barely. And I managed to get all the way to the car afterwards without my rubber legs giving way before I got there. Still, I just sat in the car for a time and blew. I don’t think that I will ever return to 100% … but then, I never was that enamored of full bore living anyway.
Not much in the news today. Lots of political posturing. Even more inanities. The mid-week bloggers are few. And facebook is a wilderness. So I have run out of excuses to sit in front of the unblinking Cyclops and must cover my bod for the day’s routines. Would be that the world would be more accepting of a geezer in his underwear.