Up early today. So it goes. Sinatra is crooning softly in the background. My trusty and ever-listening Alexa just told me it is fifty-something outside. It was in the seventies when I went to bed some five hours ago.
I had a dream my wife was pregnant. She informed me of the news while we were on a camping trip, so I know it was all a dream, not a premonition. That and it is impossible for her to be preggers. Her important parts are gone, and I'm pretty sure we have to actually, you know, slap our boy and girl parts together. Besides, she loathes camping. She went camping with me once in about 1986 and declared never no more ever and ever and don't even ask. Therefore any idea that she went camping and delivered the "Guess what, Honey?" news is purely the stuff of imagination.
It was not that I did not make camping comfortable (as comfortable as tent camping can be -- a camper is not camping). I am an Eagle Scout of the old school type where camping and hiking was part of the scouting curriculum -- year round. I know how to make camping easy and fun. She hated all of it, starting with the tent itself. No matter how many times I explained that no crazed killer was going to drive out to the middle of nowhere to find our campsite when so many victims were readily available in cities and towns, she couldn't get past it. The blood-stained hook we found on the door handle of my truck the next morning probably did not help.
I made that last part up.
Anyway, here I am chatting electronically with you. I could be reading. I'm a little bogged down in the Aubry/Maturin Series right now. I have been through the entire series three or four times in the past 20 years. These same installments drag for me every time; the part where the lads are on the long voyage through Java, Indonesia, Australia, a made-up Pacific Island and Peru. The never-ending year of 1812. The events fill three or four books and frankly I think O'Brian ran out of material and was just writing books because they sold rather well. A lot of nothing happens. I mean one can only read page after page about reefing the topsails so many times.
Kind of like this blog.