It is 8H30am and I am up. Both cats are back inside. Whiskey is eating his canned food and kibbles.
Hardy meows to go back out. Nope: not allowed again today. His bro Laurel came in, ate and went to bed in my bedroom.
I woke up feeling frail a little. I am a bit unsteady nowadays with my big stories. I have a LOT of imagination, that is for sure. And I live a bit in those stories. I am a marginal, an original. I live in my head heart and invent stories to suit my fancy. Stories in the future are invented but not past stories.
Amen.