At least I get to go out now and then to hear the soft chirping of the crickets, my favorite insects. Well, perhaps butterflies are my favorite insects, though they make no music that I can hear. I guess that crickets are my favorite nocturnal insects. In any case, there numbers are greatly increased now, so that their songs overlap, and rise and fall like the rhythm of rain. It is very restful.
Each night, the contents of the room are diminished. Soon, it will be quite spacious here. I wonder if I'll be able to stop? Perhaps I'll become so enamored of discarding things that I'll end up emptying the place out entirely. No, wait. I can't discard Sluggo, or the CD player, or the bed that pretends to be a couch when I'm not sleeping in it, and I must keep a minimum of clothing in the closet. The CDs' would have to stay too -- though not all of them -- and there are a few items such as pictures and a few favorite books with which I'd rather not part. But I'm sure I could make the place almost empty. I'll never use most of the stuff that's in here, anyway. Oh, it feels good to get rid of things.
Almost the time when light wakes the first birds now. I will turn off the fans for a few minutes of peace before the avian din begins. Say good-night, Sluggo.
