Bedside Table

Just because the same five or six books have stood at my bedside table for the best part of a year doesn't mean I'm not going to read them. If I got a cold or the flu, I'd read through them in a couple of days, nursing along, with a cup of tea and a shot of Irish. I keep books at hand, on a need to read basis, it's a habit. You never know when you're going to get caught in the elevator. Anymore, I always use the stairs, but I carry a book, in my back pocket, in case I, you know, get caught in traffic. I always have something to read, and I always have a scrap of paper, and I always have a pen that was working this morning. So I can factor time. I'm not sure how important it is, but I do it, as a matter of course. A side-wheeler runs aground, two crows fight over a micro-waved mouse, I can only quote Mark Twain. Shit, I forget the quote, something about how meaning was construed. Rainy morning, fifty degrees by ten o'clock, then the weather starts deteriorating quickly. A change over to little ice pellets, nasty wind. The desolation isn't too bad, in a harsh way. I left the Jeep at the house. B brought me a back-up bottle of whiskey, I have plenty of everything else, and if I get snowed in, so be it. This is part of the paradigm shift, that if I get stuck, it would be on the ridge. I'll probably lose electricity, so I'm saving after every sentence. I'll be drifting between the past and present, which is what I do anyway. Top up the oil lamps and get out a few candles, put a little LED flashlight by the phone. A man only needs one suit, but he needs two sets of long underwear. That was gratuitous and I apologize. I better go, it's a full gale.