Good morning. The padlock for the television cabinet is missing. I suspect various persons who aren’t out of bed yet. I will go upstairs and loudly mention it before I leave for the gym.
I got up at 4:30 again. Your hours seem to be creeping up on me!
You should see the hours I keep!
The Hours I Keep
My life is filled with treasures,
Rainbows, sunsets, lovely flowers,
Each I see as one more gift,
To set among my trove of hours.
Minutes stolen here and there,
Pondering the ways,
Glimpses of a bright tomorrow,
Mounting up to days.
Times I’ve taken stock of things,
Reckon I’ve done well.
Interest paid on gathered scents,
A fortune when I sell.
There will be an accounting,
Before my final sleep,
In minutes I’ve recorded for,
The hours that I keep.
NicknamedBob . . . . . May 21, 2007
Wow. 0430? Sleepyhead!
Just had another meeting with Zeke about Chuck. I feel bad for the guy (Chuck) and Zeke is doing all he can to help with Chuck’s daily cares, such as his rent and utilities, and other things.
Today, I will draft a letter of complaint about Berta, as she will no doubt try to “help” him when he comes home from rehab. Zeke needs to complain, as well, but he seems to think she is “harmless.” Those of us who know, see her in her real guise as a person who is “false, Precious. They is falses.”
I’m just glad she wasn’t here when they found him. The thought almost makes me sick.