I had another image in mind when I began this blog, but the machine had other ideas, and this is the one it wanted. Machines are doing it to me, again. Victim of machines, that's me. It's a Sunday kind of thing. Basically, I detest Sundays. There is no mail, and even the garbage bill is better than no mail, you know. Surprises come in the mail. No mail, no surprise. I don't go to church any more, and even when I did, I had to come home afterward anyway. There is no family here to cook for or clean up after or just listen to, playing Marco Polo in the backyard pool. They, and the pool, are gone. So I am planning on ignoring the day of the week, and heading out at 11:15 for a swim, in my new Speedo. And working in the backyard. I am having a gathering of women next weekend, it came up kind of spontaneously and I said "we could have it at my place" so we are. Which means serious dog hair cleanup and some yard maintenance guaranteed to melt another inch off my body. I hope it is the inch that hangs out from my Speedo.
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