Sure Enough

There are a few commas I would change, not that they matter. Meaning is variable. I tweak language constantly, during the course of a paragraph, flipping the nouns and verbs, to see how that alters things. Usually, a given night, the actual meaning doesn't change that much. It's nuance. Subtle change. Wet leaves covering a substrate you know too well. Just because you have a phone doesn't mean you have to use it. There's a rock overhang I retreat to frequently, almost a cave, it provides protection against most weather, if I wrap myself in a caribou skin and lower my heartbeat, I can survive extreme weather there. Met with the guy who's going to do some repair, tomorrow, on a parapet wall that I'm sure is the cause of the leak; then the rest of the day working with the lady (Jennifer) who sets up for the Doctor's Party every year at this time. Said event is tomorrow night. She always does a great job with the decorating and she doesn't use glitter. When I went to the pub at lunch (a wonderful chicken-noodle soup) almost everyone in the place greeted me by name, and the few people I didn't know looked at me curiously, as if to ask the question, who was this Tom person that everybody knew. Piddled around, after Jennifer left, shimming tables (the tile floor is very uneven), and cleaning the back hallway. Pegi told me to leave at four, because it was going to be cold tonight, temps dropping like a rock when it gets dark. Crystal clear sky. No argument from me, and I'll leave early tomorrow, because they'll be setting up the sound system and testing it with Christmas carols. Spare me. As soon as I got home, and I don't listen to music much anymore, I put on Miles, "Bitches Brew"; built a fire, and heated some water, to wash and soak my feet. A year or so ago, I mentioned to Anthony that I was sorry Kroger didn't carry socks, because I needed some and I didn't want to go to Wal-Mart. He looked at me, with a glint in his eye, and said to look no further. He was holding socks, he'd give me some. The next day he gave a package of twelve pair: black, cushioned, comfortable, tube socks. They're all I wear now, except for the over-socks, which I wear when it gets really cold (alpaca, knitted by a friend), and the few days I go shoeless. Great cheap socks, and some aunt or uncle, every year, gets him a package as a present. The problem is that the cushioning agent degrades and ends up between your toes as black gunk, but I enjoy washing and soaking my feet, because I use that occasion to trim my toenails, which are horrid and malformed. I use electric tools on them, a Dremel, a random orbit sander; not because I care about appearance, but because I need to fit inside shoes.