The cricket is still hanging out just up the bike trail, and I've been enjoying his concert, faint though it remains in my walled back yard. It makes a nice break from staring at the computer. Sometimes as I sit and listen I think I can almost feel ideas coming on, but so far none have actually manifested themselves. I'm pretty sure my days of having ideas are over. That part of my brain that used to generate them probably suffered irreversible smoke damage. My brain is one part of the rubble FEMA won't be able to clear away. It will remain a barren heap of ash from now on.
Okay, I'm going to go read a book before I get any more morose. It's supposed to be only 83 degrees tomorrow. I ought to be cheerful. For some reason I'm not. Maybe it's because I'm missing the cats even more than usual tonight. Tossing out that chunk of hamburger made me think how much they would have enjoyed finishing it for me.
