Sorting Laundry

You can tell when I have been sick because the laundry piles overcome the closet and slide into the bedroom. I must be feeling better because I noticed that after a night of sweats, I was down to only a few shirts and sweatpants.

So the last three days I braved the 30 degree morning cold and threw a couple of batches of clothes into the apartment washing machines. I do want to give glorious commendations to my phone. I have a timer on it that tells me when the wash and the dryer is done. No, the washer doesn’t call me and tell me that laundry is done as in that one scene in “Two and a half Men,” although it would be a good idea.

I am still coughing and still have some mucous. I’m not as tired as I was two days ago, which means that I am ready to write again after I run a few errands. My fridge is only filled with crackers and soup. I’m also at the last can of dog food. A few months back Foxy had pancreatitis so I have to use a special dog food. Between the two of us, we are the disabled corps of Nevada.

I’ve been watching “True Detectives” first season because my brother recommended it. It has that Louisiana atmosphere of heavy swamps and voodoo feel to it. The music was good. Plus in many ways the way it is put together reminds me of “True Blood.” Unfortunately, my brother said that the other season didn’t drag him in, like the first season. I probably won’t spend the money to see the second. You see, my brother and I have similar tastes when it comes to the visual media. It might be because of mutual childhood experiences. Or not.

Since we are a little over ten years apart we are also in different generations. I remember the moon landing. He remembers “Doogie Howser.”

My doggy thinks I am not giving her enough attention. She is trying to jump into my lap. She scratches my leg as I try to write this rambling. So the rent needs to be paid, the clothes washed, the house cleaned, and the blankets that are full of virus and cold germs needs to be taken to a cleaner.

So my writings are mainly of the desert because I spent much of my young life and now older life there. It is different, much different than the swamps of Louisiana and the South. It still has its dangers that are real.

We can go insane here in the clear bright of the burning sun.

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