23:23:23

The train passes by many times a day and shakes our house as it thunders past even though it is a good quarter mile away. Sometimes our neighbor across the street comes home in his motorcycle and sometimes in his car. Either way, it always sounds like someone's stopping in the middle of the road which makes me freeze, like someone might be coming to our house. This morning the garbage truck came by to retrieve our gifts.

There's a huge evergreen tree in our front yard. I'm not sure which kind, but its trunk is a couple feet in diameter and there are no branches until 20 feet up. The branches then are long and scraggly and gropey. And hauntingly hanging above our vehicles and rooms. I never am quite sure whether I'll wake up in the morning to my alarm or to a branch stuck through my skull. So far so good.

The neighbor to our back corner is fascinating to watch. He'll wander his yard at random, checking the ditch by the road, the fence on the far side of his yard, the old two-story cat shed between all the houses, and the wood pile and overgrowth to the side of our house. Sometimes he just touches our wood pile or picks up a piece and puts it on top. He's kind of older, with grey hair and country clothes and two trucks and hands clasped behind his back and a shoulderless shuffle. I watch him through our back door. Maybe I'm just as fascinating.

I'm lying on my bed, sideways, with my feet in the middle of the room and my head against the wall. The shelf full of books is directly in front of me and up. I've purchased several the past few weeks at McKays. I'm not sure that I've finished a one. There are two very large speakers on my desk lent to me by the Foote family. They provide the world of escape that a good loud song only can. They have become my friends.

I'm dreadfully thirsty. And by the time I finish this sentence it should be about 23:23:23. Nope. I finished at 23:23:13. But right NOW it was 23:23:23. This has been a Snippets of My Life. Good night.