I love music. I love music of any sort. I don’t have a genre or a type. I don’t remember titles. I can’t identify groups. I like how something sounds. And with the way my memory is working these days———-it’s always new to me… I have a CD of monks throat-singing/chanting while playing drum skulls. I like that too. I think they’re called the Gyuto Monks……………….I fondly refer to them as my Guido Monks. And then I’ve got this…
***************Our Tea*************** (No Tea will be offered)……………..Cosmopolitans, Screwdrivers, water (pleeeeeze!), Absinthe, and something that looks like a bomb from Captain Morgan…………….but no tea AND no coffee. Sorry………………(no, not really). My younger daughter & I just did a hit on Walmart. We’ve already done our run on ABC Liquors. I’m pooped. I’m sitting now looking at the plastic bags hanging from doorknobs, draping from cabinets, hanging off of butcher blocks. Piled on the floor. Why is it that as soon as…
Got up. Dealt with bounding house animals. Checked tea pot for left-over tea. Started new kettle. Washed out tea pot while nuking left-over tea from yesterday. Thought about composting tea bags. Decided not to (again). Dealt with newly-found dirty dishes in sink. It’s magic how they materialize after midnight. Used hot water to clean gathered eggs found in a pail by the sink (that one’s on me, I left them there). Lined up cleaned eggs to air-dry on…