Me The Most
Thursday. It's later morning now, five loads of laundry finishing up downstairs in about an hour. An early breakfast at the usual café, home again before eight, the day bright, clear, the air cool and crisp as it well should be when you're living at the end of the rainbow. Oh, and the various wildfires burning out of control throughout the state aren't sending us all that much smoke at the moment, although who knows what may be on the way for tomorrow? It's as dry now in the middle of our dry season as it usually is in September, when the dry season ends and the rains begin, so they're saying things will remain hairy for another couple of months.
Oh, and the head is feeling pretty good. I apparently have this need to jinx myself within the first couple of paragraphs, a complete journaler's inability to keep my mouth shut.
The laundry is now done, the t-shirts folded, the socks tucked into little balls, the radio saying there's eighteen hundred wildfires burning at the moment, over five hundred thousand acres charred and Big Sur is burning out of control, all of this before noon. I actually did the socks. Of all that's going on at the moment that surprises me the most. Here in Oakland.
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