Morning dawns and I awake to it without effort. It has been awhile since that happened. As much as I hate to admit it, the slumber of a laborer is sweeter than that of an idler. But it doesn’t take much labor for me to tire. Six hours on a tractor seat was a piece of cake a couple of years back, but now two hours and I am dragging.
But at last, the unmowed wilds have been leveled to golf course flatness, and the windrows[i] are ready for bailing if I was inclined to go that far. As it is, I will just leave the windrows to dry a few days, then go over it again with the mower and grind it into an allergy inducing powder.
But the major nag has been taken care of finally, and after doctoring myself up with steroid inhalers and antihistamines, I lugged my aching body to bed and slept the sleep of the just. It doesn’t take much to become just in this family. A little production is all that is needed.
So the fall goes on. Next up is the eye surgery … I am almost ready for it. My vision is so clouded that I hate driving and make Snookums drive when I can. But I really hate all the scheduling it requires. Physical exams, telephone exams, lab tests, surgery on one eye, post-surgery visit, surgery on the other eye, post-surgery visit.
That is more activity in three weeks than I have done in three years.
So life flows on by. I sip my coffee and ponder great themes and religious paradoxes, and idly watch political factions fight in a bar brawl of snarly charges and righteous comeback.
I wonder what kind of world will my generation leave … I don’t think it will be a good one.
- a long line of raked hay or sheaves of grain laid out to dry in the wind