Always. in A small but passable life.

A few days ago we had our hottest day of the year so far, 97 degrees, and right now thunderstorms with a spattering of rain are blowing through. Crazy.

While Mom and I were out running errands yesterday I stopped by Walmart and ran in and bought that journal I’d looked at several weeks ago when we were there. No, I didn’t need it, but I really liked it. It is 7” X 9 ½” with 400 fine lined acid free pages with a faux leather cover and a ribbon bookmark. It is a good looking book with a nice heft and feel to it. All for $10.

That upped my yearly expenditure on consumer goods to almost $28. I believe that is more than I spent all of last year. Pathetic willpower.

I did manage to wash the car while we were out. I finally found a self-serve carwash. It still cost $4 but I got to hand scrub it with the mitt and get it shiny clean. And today I washed the golf cart and got it under the carport before it started to rain.

I only have a few small projects left to do. Until Mom adds more to the list.

I should wash everything I’ve been wearing, again. I’ve only done one load of wash in the nearly three months I’ve been here.

I was debating if it was time to leave and then Mom had a bad day. I think she had just done too much for one day and it had caught up to her. I should stay for a bit longer. The last time I left I had to return after three months at home.

Home. An interesting concept. Especially for a homeless guy. Who said- “Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in”? Or something like that. I believe it was Robert Frost in “The Death of the Hired Man”. I’ve got two little patches of Missouri forest in my mind and can picture a nice little camp set up there. Or an attic room in center city.

This place doesn’t feel more than a way station. A vacation? An assignment? A duty?

It is now warm enough in the mornings to sit outside on the patio for my morning coffee. The TV on with the news, commercials, and the price is right is just not conducive to my morning routine. I’m used to, and need, silence and a book on my lap. I used to get up two hours before work just to have that time. Even if it meant getting up at 3am. Got to have it.

No, no complaints here. Because it could always be worse. Always.