I’m back from the walk I ended my last post with. I’m still cold, but at least dry. The embarassingly hilarious part of feeling cold was revealed when my Lovely, also complained. She is a cold human who comes from a cold country and enjoys living in the cold. I took her mild complaint as a sign that something was seriously wrong. I was right. I checked the thermostat and discovered that in my morning fog while adjusting the temperature upward, I had put the blasted thing into Aircon mode. Being an obedient artificially-intelligent device it responded accordingly. There was ice-cold air blasting from all of the vents. The expected 74 degrees was down to a chilly 69 and dropping fast.
This morning, I looked out my window and saw what I thought was rain coming in at a seventy-degree angle. It looked like rain, but it was snow, turning into sleet and eventually into rain as it slid in against the ground. April showers are supposed to bring May flowers, but we are still a long way from May. I don’t expect anything but daffodils to bloom.

I feel my body becoming weaker as my daily exercise consists of shuffling from one chair to another. Either I’m reading a book or pounding keys on my computer trying to finish my book. I came across an old note on my phone yesterday, made in October 2013. I started writing my book, Space Rod. There is nothing like taking a few breaks in the project. I think I may have overdone it a bit. I have promised myself that I won’t stop until it is complete.
I’m debating whether or not to waste another three dollars on a lottery ticket. The winning numbers will net one billion dollars. It is wishful thinking on my part, but the price increases due to inflation are draining my resources faster than I want them to. I don’t mind spending money, but prices on food, a somewhat essential necessity, are as high as ten times. I remember reading many years ago about inflation in Argentina rising to the point where a person needed a bushel basket of paper money to buy a loaf of bread. Somehow Argentina continues to exist, in spite of the pain it has imposed on its population.
The moral of that story is that, somehow, a body will continue to exist no matter how much prices rise.
It is time for me to change chairs.
Filed under: Aging, Biography, economy | Tagged: Fixed Income, Inflation, Shoot Biden | Leave a comment »


