It is late. After one a.m. And, I am posting even though I have nothing of major importance or relevance to share. I rarely stay up this late anymore; even on days when I’m not working the next day I’m in bed by eleven, dead to the world and drooling into my pillowcase.
It is cool outside: low 70s and the first night in three months that the windows have been open and the air conditioning turned off. I worked earlier today and all evening. My feet hurt and my legs are aching. I have a headache behind my left eyeball.
It is quiet. Thom has gone to bed. He’s been down to check on me already and to lock the doors and turn off the stereo. Crickets chirp outside and I am enjoying the click, click, clickety, click of the keyboard as I type.
It is September. I’ve said all summer that I would not complain too much about the heat. It’s been the hottest summer since I’ve moved here. I was miserable last winter. It was cold. It snowed. And I am already spoiled by the usually mild winters of the South. I haven’t complained. Much. It is September. And, I am glad to see it. Fall is my favorite time of year. But, as much as I love to see fall arrive, I am sad to know that winter is not far behind.
It is time for bed now. My eyes are droopy and I can’t think of much else to type.
Goodnight, Otto {see him up there, eyeing us sideways and wondering what I’m up to?}. Goodnight, moonless lake. Goodnight, crickets and tree frogs, and tiny little spiders outside the kitchen window. Yes, I see you and sadly you will be gone tomorrow.
Goodnight, friends.
