Well we are having a full-blown Petrol Panic around here. Lines around the block, etc. But I bought my gas around 3:30 PM before things got really gnarly. This gasoline issue should be over in a few days.

I went swimming, shopped at BJ’s, then had tacos with J at a neighbourhood sports restaurant. We then drove around to check out the petrol lines and get her a sweet iced tea at Dunkin’.

Now I’m sitting in my porch rocker, with patchouli incense burning, contemplating how glad I am to be retired. There’s very little road noise, plenty of birds singing and insects chirping. Either it’s insects or tinnitus. Doesn’t really matter, does it?

I have to ask my neighbour if I can put seed in the bird feeder in her crepe myrtle tree. Also if I can put a hummingbird feeder there.

As days go, it was pretty good.

The day began rainy and cold. I awoke, far too early, but obsessed with the thought of a dental appointment, four hours almost from my unwanted wake-up.

I went through a list of trivial chores that needed doing, like emptying the dishwasher of clean items, making coffee, checking on the status of the frijoles negroes in the slow cooker.

I was in the mood for huevos rancheros. Rather than serving the beans and eggs over a tortilla, I heated some leftover French fries from 5 Guys. Since they give you more than we can eat in one sitting, they were a prime subject for an alternative use.

I added some pieces of linguiça, the spicy Portuguese style sausage from the New Bedford area of Massachusetts, I enjoy from time to time. Breakfast completed, I determined that tortillas are a much better substrate for the huevos part of the meal, but the fries are gone, at least.

I still had another two hours to kill before the appointment. Bear in mind, the sleep deprivation made me a zombie, but I had to drive on.

The dental appointment was anticlimactic. I received kudos from the hygienist and the dentist on the state of my chompers. The dentist was particularly pleased how the extraction of the two rear most molars had halted the receding gum issue I had.

On the return I bought J a large sweet iced tea at Dunkin’, along with the cream cheese-stuffed mini bagels she likes.

Then I came home, slept for a couple of hours, awoke for a couple hours, then slept some more, falling asleep to my current musical crush, Joan Armatrading.

Now I’m awake. The sun is out, birds are chirping and cool breeze makes the outdoors perfect.

Dinner, fixing J’s lunch for early this morning, and swimming will round out the day.

Life is good.

Controversy Over Elon Musk’s SNL Gig.

Controversy over an appearance by a Tech plutocrat on a has-been TV show. They must put events on a wheel, like the one on Wheel Of Fortune, spin the arrow and if it lands on the event, then said event becomes news.

I don’t care about Musk, the Gates and their divorce, Trump’s Facebook ban, and most of all, Caitlyn Jenner and their entrance into electoral politics.

I’ll bet you don’t care either.

I have to tell myself:

To drink water when I awaken.

Sit outside in the fresh air.

Breathe deeply.

Be grateful for what I possess, not anxious over what I lack.

Sugar and other carbohydrates are not the answer to my problems, just as alcohol and sex aren’t either.

There’s more to learn about the Cosmos than what we know already.

God knows more than we humans know.

Actually it has arrived and the “you” is, in fact, “me”.

“Enough with the phantom pronouns, Dave, what is the it that has arrived?”

Glad you asked. My refurbished Mac desktop has arrived! Now, all I have to do is take it out of the carton and set it up, find a compatible printer, and I can take my writing to the next level.

I must say Mac The ‘Puter arrived just in time, because there is stuff that needs to be said.

First though, I have to take it out of the carton,etc.

What can’t I talk about? Take a guess.

Yes. That. Sex. Intimacy. Even a simple touch or sloppy kiss where we duel with our tongues.

I have a friend, whom I’ve never met in person. She lives in Kansas now, but originally in Illinois. We “love” each other, in the Internet meaning of love. We’ve carried this on for fourteen years. I am supposed to bare my soul to my wife, and deal with the dysfunctional sexual intimacy that characterizes our marriage. She, the friend, is hoping the dialogue and, subsequently, the marriage fails and I move on to her. She texted me yesterday to do something, as in talk. But I won’t. I never will. The mere thought of holding a forthright conversation with my wife makes me ill. I know I’m “supposed” to do this. I can’t.

So there you have it. Please no “suggestions“. I won’t act on them.