Barbara J. Hamby

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Rainy Sunday

It’s pretty nasty outside, but warm and cozy in here. I burned the remaining stack of shredded paper, tax returns, credit union statements, and other financial documents. When that fire goes out, I think we’ll throw a log on.

After my swim, we made a fast trip to Hometown Buffet for a mid-afternoon dinner. Because of a late breakfast, we skipped lunch, but will probably need a snack this evening. I brought home a cookie for my Snickerdoodle fix. I never bake anymore, so when I get a chance to pick up an old favorite, I take it.

A neighbor in the next building was standing in the rain, on a ladder, scraping leaves out of the gutter on the roof. I hope their roof is not leaking. I notice the management hasn’t trimmed a tall shrub that juts out over the gutter and jams it, trapping leaves.

Email takes a lot of time these days, but I’m not complaining. It’s nice to hear from relatives and old friends. Sometimes I even get a joke I haven’t heard before.

More revisions on memoir stories are gradually getting done. However, there are plenty left to keep me busy for some time to come.

Floyd is flirting with schizophrenia by watching two TV shows simultaneously, switching back and forth. I am content to be at my computer.

The news reporters on Channel Two tried to drum up panic over winds predicted to arrive later tonight, while their weather guru contradicted them, stating there’s a good chance they will miss us entirely.  I might have to stay up to see who’s right.

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