Nothing holds such exquisite promise of a better tomorrow as a freshly opened jar of Folger’s Instant Coffee. I was down to enough in the jar for two more cups when unsolicited beneficence from two acquaintances made possible the purchaqse of a new jar from Shop N Save Wednesday. Two years ago I would have thought the same about removing the cork from a bottle of Whild Turkey 101, but these are different times. I’m on a shorter leash held by testy Fate, and that’s okay. I’m adjusting. I’m a humbler hummin’ bean.
In November I felt like an insensitive heel for asking the cherished renter upstairs for the Decenber check the night before the new month arrived.. She made sure I’d feel this way, pointing out she had never been late; why was I suddenly so un-naturally concerned? So I said nothing Wednesday night, despite my earnest promises to patient creditors for ultrafast action to resolve small parts of outstanding servitude. And as you’ve no doubt tuessed, there was no rent check this morning, or this afternoon. And I feel like an imbecile for NOT asking her for it this morning as she left the house. Well, I guess she showed me a fool, and it isn’t the one I encounter in the mirror.
Wednesday gave me a serious surge with the writing assignment, and though I didn’t return to it until about 11 Thursday, I made the most progress of the effort. If I get lucky with the phones, calling people to verify information, I will complete this thing by quitting time – 7 ish when Washington Week with Gwenn Ifill and team comes on.
I don’t often mourn the death of good people, but I was totally bummed by the deeparture of Milly Ivens from this nutty place called life. She had an earthy handle on Texas politics and the Southern mentaility the way Jimmy Breslin interfaced with New York City. Perehaps because my parents were Confederate by birth (Mom died a reform-Reb but Dad evolved into a sentient primate from his own instinctive determination) I enjoyed listening to Molly and reading every line I saw from her more than the equally phenomenal Breslin. I will miss her. Sometimes I find myself in pre-mourning mode, a perspective that younger folks don’t encounter if they’re lucky until they’re at least 50. I miss people whom I fear will leave before I am ready for them to leave, and I miss people who continue to expand outward with the cosmos as I rock back and forth with my consciousness mired in the clutch of my own incapacity.
Live long . . . . and proper.
