Sitting in my office at my desk, I just overheard Alexa ask my wife, who was walking past her in the living room, if she wanted to update an order in the Amazon shopping cart for some kind of vitamins for our dogs. Kim yelled “No” on her way out the door to take Lucy outside. Across the street, the neighbors with the pool have classic rock playing, and I’m sure he’s got a cooler of beers out there on the patio. If I still drank or went swimming, I’d probably be over there right now. Next door, our old house is for sale. It’s a long story, but yeah, we used to live next door. Sold it. Moved seventy-five feet to the west, and now our old house is for sale. It’s on Facebook marketplace. It’s a busy world, even if you barely leave the house.

Meanwhile, I’m finally settling into a rhythm of typing at my keyboard.

I don’t type while online. For me, it’s distracting. Plus, there’s a part of me firmly convinced if I put a thousand or so words down, with the cloud looming overhead, that my precious data will be pilfered by online plagiarists. Right, wrong, or indifferent; if I’m on the word processor, the machine itself is offline.

Everything previous happened in the last fifteen minutes and comes on the heels of a busier than usual week. I got a new truck, finished one project at work and then started another. I rushed around like normal. I also performed a wedding ceremony– for my son and his bride.

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