Muddling Through

Late to bed tonight because of two naps today: feeling punk from the third week of a cold. One of those that's mild enough not to be laid up but strong enough to make you drag around more than usual. Have a shoulder muscle that's tensed up, so going to physical therapy in the morning to get it unknotted. We've had two weather reports of late: (1) cloudy and (2) rain. It's raining tonight. Winter solstice is on Saturday December 22 at 1:38 a.m. Short days. I've been too busy to give in to my SAD. Way it ought to be every winter! Busy helping friends Sam and Mike and David and they're helping me. Leo and Bernie and Tom and Howard and Dennis and Irene -- yes, a woman! -- are helping me with my lifelong malady -- and I think I'm helping them. Irene is a dear, dear girl who doesn't know how helpful she has been because she thinks she's a beginner but her humility is that of a saint. Afraid we lost Earl. He was going to his hometown and I hope he got there. He didn't answer or return my call. I took him to task for always taking and never giving. I should have said that doing just that has been my failing too. I made it sound too much like preaching. My pal Van De Graaf is on in the next room and I can't hear what he's saying but I can barely hear the music, which is good. This evening, went to the little town of New Marion and after the meeting drove to Versailles because I was afraid I'd run out of gas before I got back home; filled up the tank and paid for it with a credit card. Buying things on credit is entirely too easy. Have the fan on in the bedroom. Rudy is in his bed and shifts from time to time and the wicker squeaks. That and the susurrus of the fan and the music in the next room. And the sash of the window has started to bump in the wind that has come up. Now there's Pete's baritone voice again. It's a nice time of darkness and calm. Goodnight.