Gary is off at his regular Thursday night meeting and I am alone in the house, save for Rascal Cat. This doesn't happen very often. For just one night a week, I enjoy the solitude, the time to meditate and read. The television and radio are off and save for an occasional "meow" request for something or other, the house is so, so quiet.
In theory, I could use this time for doing something constructive, but I never do. I float through four hours of my own time at my own speed. Even this blog is short. Why think when I can vegetate?
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