My Little Golden Book of Phobias

It's a raw day, an unfinished day, a day of possible tribulation. Pumpkins rot on the porches, their faces folding in on themselves. I insist on a walk because I need to see what the geese and mallards are doing, rocking about in the lake. No turtles today. They line up on the logs and sun. So November is not promising for them.

I sat at my writing desk where I don't actually write. I prefer to sit on the couch hunched over my laptop to write. Then I wonder why I have a backache. But. I'm up here and noticed that the window was open a smidge. In order to close it, I had to kneel on the desk and push/pull in opposite directions while brushing away spider detritus. Obviously I don't spend much time in here.

I loathe turning on the heat. Loathe it. Heat should be free. So should water and garbage. My NYT told me this morning that the top 1% own 24% of the wealth. I don't really understand this in real numbers but I do understand that greed has no limitations, my little greed and some really huge greed. Greed=suffering. I have the great good fortune to employ several people in my midwifery practice. We don't make a lot but we do make enough. The business makes enough to support us, more or less. I still want free heat for everyone, however.

Tonight I'm going to a concert where I'm sure I'll be the oldest person there. I don't care. I have been listening to this artist obsessively since I discovered her. Tonight I get to see her move and sing. I might get her autograph. Gawd.