In Praise of Summer

Not a happy morning. Temperature too high. Not much breeze. The constitutional was at best mediocre. The podcast was not 10 dB within that good. And the park cats were out in large numbers.

This is one of those day when I suspect I have died and no one has bothered to tell me. It’s not that it feels particularly bad. No worse than usual. Just that nothing feels good.

That seems to be the nature of modern life. Perhaps it is how life always has been. Mediocre and banal on the edge of hurt. When it doesn’t actually cross over.

I should be working. I want to be working. But nastiness keeps getting in the way. Mostly relatives. The involuntary kind. The kind who think that the only things important are what they care about. And anyone who disagrees is wrong. Nasty, evil wrong.

No wonder the GEN Y avoid their families. Bad medicine. Parasites. Antiquarian obstructions.

Makes one envy orphans.

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