I stayed over because it was wanted by some feline spirit and I didn’t mind. It was the opposite of virtuous but so what.

I have this itchy desire to make up the three missing days and this too is a matter of virtue, a matter I want to say so-what to too, but I may anyway, compelled by some kind of insistence I don’t understand. There are surely fragmentary notes enough for it, floating about in the detritus of the ended trip.

As for today, there was a nice moment with a criminally underemployed kinswoman at the organic grocery. Thought she knew me and then decided not … afterwards I thought too late to tell her that we’d met before, but just not in this incarnation. Which might not be true, or might be true on some other level than this one.

But the biggest deal was seeing a number on the side of a truck. 4400. Per week. Per team. Which works out to over a hundred thousand a year each.

Not only are we qualified for it, we’re experienced at it.

It’s not the time, and it probably isn’t even the very thing. But just knowing that it’s an option lifts my spirits.

I’m poking along with this stupid pensioner-wannabe piddle-crap, and that’s a million dollars sitting there in less than five years.

Trading off time I of course don’t want to trade, and may not even have, but what’s the difference; I’m doing that anyway.

You know?