The Light
I was standing outside yesterday evening around 10:25. No particular mission. I just like looking at the pasture at night. I walked over by the fence and path that runs into our back lots. As I stood there the area was lit from behind by a white light as though a vehicle was turning around in the pasture behind me. I turned to look and as I did, I caught the tail end of an asteroid or piece of space junk burning a trail through the evening sky. It was impressive. I waited for a boom, but there was none. Just a flash of light and twinkling debris.
It was a nice end to another day of painting brought on by yours truly mixing up messages. On Monday I got a message that a Houston couple would be in town at the home of mutual friends and planned on going to lunch on Sunday. I was invited. I showed up. The Houston friends weren’t there. Had I missed the date? Nope. The Monday message was a continuation of a message string that started earlier last week and pertained to a date in August that also happened to be on a weekend. We laughed. Got things straight, and I went home to paint. I guess it just goes to show you that context is everything.
This morning I’m off to figure out how much money my car is going to cost me, and after that I’ll probably do more interior painting because some of the work I did Saturday was less than perfect and although perfect isn’t really a logical goal, I do need to do better. I think I was just in a hurry and didn’t take my time. It’s a bad idea to rush when you’re painting. You get sloppy. You drip stuff. You put paint where you don’t want it. Or don’t put enough. Anyway. The entrances now look pretty spiffy. I just need some company.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale