Just like every day. in A small but passable life.

I didn’t really notice the date yesterday. It was the 38th anniversary of my first marriage. The first practice one, on Groundhog Day. The second one was on April Fool’s Day. Oh, and I forgot to mention that it has now been nine months since I’ve worn socks or shoes.

Today was another day. Coffee. Reading. Four more hours of lying by the pool listening to NPR. I came home and fixed burgers, taters, and green beans for supper.

Mom still has the cough. Not getting any worse or any better. No other symptoms of anything. The flu is rampant in the state, but she has quarantined herself from that. I don’t think she’s been out in a couple of weeks.

I don’t think the Superbowl shindig will be happening tomorrow. The gal who was hosting it has been sick for the past week.

And that means I should have another day just like today.