All evening I kept smelling wood smoke. I heard no sirens and no general conflagration developed, so I guess it was somebody using actual wood instead of briquettes for a barbecue. But it was an unpleasant reminder of the local potential for disaster.
This day has been the most unkind yet to Sluggo. He sulked in his corner, unwilling to function for more than a few minutes. The CD player and the television have been forced into service as compensation. Because of the upcoming anniversary, the Hitlery History Channel is full of D-Day programs. There is very little film available from the actual events, so every show begins to look very much the same after a while. It begins to remind me of the chase scene in Bullit, when the cars in the chase pass the same green Volkswagen bug four or five times on the same street -- as though the bug was time travelling to get ahead of them. Deja vu.
I am seeing more spiders this year than I remember seeing anytime before. Every time I go out the door, there's a good chance I'll brush into a fresh web. Scampering arachnids everywhere! More oddness for an odd year.
Sluggo goes back to sleep now, before he throws a hissy fit. I go out to watch the moon rise.