By Lamplight

She departed this morning for points north. Said her mother was lonely and will spend the rest of the week.

She didn't ask if I'd be lonely.

So I believe I'll occupy my time with my book and read by lamplight. It gives a certain warmth to an otherwise quiet dark night.

Stephen

Rain

Seems we are in for a rainy weekend, which I shall spend alone. SW has hit the road to spend some time with her mother. What to do....

Well, there is a gun show in town. I've a nice stack of books.

Do you suppose the combination of the two would hurt....

I'll let you know.

Stephen

Alone

It's so quiet in my house. The only sound is the whirl of the ceiling fan and the tick of my tide clock as it counts down the hours to the next high tide. I am alone.

It isn't bad, being alone. Many hate it. They can't deal with solitude. Most feel they must fill the lonely hours with activity as a means to occupy the empty space of lost companionship. I deal with my status of temporary bachelorhood as an opportunity. It gives me a reason and purpose to think, listen, and tackle small projects otherwise taken with partnership of husband and wife.

This blogpost is a fine example.  I'm been slack of late in the stewardship of my blog and blog friends. I have a valid excuse yet will not use it as such and must sincerely apologize for my lack of posting and failure to comment on your blogs in kind.

My lovely wife and companion has packed and traveled  north into the great state of Georgia to visit her mother. After I preformed routine maintenance to her car, she gave me a kiss and was gone.

Yesterday, after work, I made a quick run to our local Publix and stocked my larder with various foods that required little prep but offered great satisfaction to one befitting my status. Chips and salsa, summer sausage, bread and milk, always, clam chowder. I also snatched a box of chicken wings as they were on sale at half price. I'm set for the weekend.

Now I have a full day of aloneness. I'll soon retreat to my garage and continue with my current restoration project. It'll kill the rest of the day. Then, after a good shower, I've a new novel to read, that is if I can convince my feeble altered mind to concentrate long enough to stay focused upon the words. If not, well, there is always Netflix as a last resort.

The birds are singing. Somewhere, far off, I also hear a leaf blower. The ceiling fan still whirls and pushes air, the tide clocks ticks, and I hear my little inner voice begging me to stand and work...guess I should give in and do as it tells me.

Stephen