Wednesday, March 20, 2024

     I wear my faded red baseball cap when lying down in the treatment rooms.  The hat, pulled low, protects my eyes from the bright florescent ceiling lights.   At first, I apologized for the hat, but now I just put it on.

     My green garbage bin stands guard by my mailbox.  My newest strategy to keep the neighbor’s construction crew from knocking over the mail box again.

     I am of course reading two books, THE BEST AMERICAN SCIENCE AND NATURE WRITING OF 2023, a collection of really interesting essays.  SMOKE AND MIRRORS, a mystery novel by Elly Griffiths, perfect for this week’s brain fog.

     Outside in the late afternoon I watch a column of chaotic gnats hovering in the street. Short burst of breezes scatters these tiny gnats for short periods of time. They lives are a wonder to me.