8 am: Walk the dogs. I notice that a tree down the block has started to drop leaves. For good boys and good girls, there may be an autumn this year. I try to be good. The dogs can’t make it to Joe van Gogh. It’s too hot and they’re too old. I miss my cappuccino.
9 am: There was something I was supposed to do yesterday. I try to remember it.
10 am: Some little critter has been building a nest in the basement. Well, maybe not a nest. It’s been building a pile of dirt, no straw or scraps of wall insulation or socks that disappeared behind the dryer. Just dirt. It must be building a nest somewhere else and driving the fill dirt over here. I should clean it up. Having made my decision I go upstairs to check my email.
11 am: Microsoft solitaire informs me that “Quitting or restarting this game counts as a loss in your statistics.” I have solitaire statistics? Cool. I check my stats—50%. Is that good or bad? I’m now determined to get to 60!
12 noon: I remember what I was supposed to do. Check the critter mess. I’m way ahead of myself.
1 pm: I get to work, editing a report on dam failure. Don’t tell the people downstream, but I just can’t get enthusiastic about it.
2 pm: Why do the writers keep using “assure” for “ensure?” I’m getting excited now.
3 pm: The bread delivery arrives. Yes, we have bread delivered! Now I’m really excited. There’s a Cypriot loaf this week with olives and I am tearing into it as I assure the world that we’re ensuring the safety of dams. The people downstream cheer. I think they sent the bread. We’re all in this together. My empathy statistics rise.
4 pm: After that burst of activity I’m exhausted. I lie down for five minutes.
6:30 pm: What? Dinner’s ready? We walk the dogs first. Dog walks are the bookends of the day. I check to see if autumn has arrived yet.
9 pm: Political convention anyone? I go to check on the critter pile. It’s still there. Good. I have something to look forward to.
10 pm: Write in my Covid FB diary. Last time I wrote was in June. I’m on a tear.