Three AM. A care giver opens the door and peeks in.
"Hi," I say.
"Hi, Chcuk. Are you okay?"
"I sure am," I reply cheerily.
I am up because I want to be. This is prime thinking time. No TV, no call to meals, fo announcements by an activity director trying to entertain the old folks. Just quiet.
Today I won't burden you with what I am thinking about. No stream of consciousness rambling. Well, except this...
The computer takes forever these days to start up. There is so much junk it has to wade through. From time to time I purge the list of programss and throw out things I seldom use, and yet there are hundreds of strange things I do no dare remove. Updates with weird names like COMZin22ia.1. I have no idea what that is, nor how it got there, nor what it does. I only know if I delete it, tomorow my clock will run backwards and AOL will say "Hola, Usted habana communicado."
I rent a garage sized storage bin that I use to hold my accumlated junk. Things I dare not part with because, I tell myself, "I may need that someday." My Ham radio, for instance. It served me well, but I will never use it again. But I keep it. So it is with my computer. It is stuffed with copies of letters I wrote to the manager in 2000 for example. My, it is fun to see what angst I had then by rereading it, when I am looking for stuff to throw out. I'll just keep it, for now.
I paused here.
To think. To let my mind wander.
An that's okay, too.
I guess now, I'll go back to bed before the caregiver pops in again, though I hate to waste this prime thinking time.
(Pardon me if I don't proof-read this tonight.)