Another week where the days blur together. Last night was an episode of cornering a little mouse in the old stainless sink, and seeing that the poor thing was screwed, I offered him an escape out into the night. And he took it.
I wonder at what level do I have a reverence for life? I guess I draw the line of consciousness somewhere at the place where birds and furry things diverge from the snakes and spiders and other reptiles, amphibians and less developed forms of life. But Magilla and my housemate are leaving for a week to go back to Cali, so it will be a quite few days on Franklin Street.
A month ago , I had no vehicles. And now I have two: A 1972 VW Weekender, and a little 2004 Ford pick-up that I had to finally bite the bullet, succumb and purchase. So I regretfully am no longer a part of the carless enclave of Bellingham, and I hope I do not turn into a fat unhappy denizen of the automobile, like so many people I see. I keep calling it my car, and my business partner stresses “It’s a truck, not a car!”
But my friend Hutch back in Clarks Summit, Pennsylvania once told me back in the eighties: “Sooner or later you’re going to need a truck in life; or a friend with one.” I wonder how he's doing.
The picture was taken a few weeks back of my place on the left (yellow) behind the Hawthorne trees.