Dawn Reader

Dawn Reader
from Open Door Coffee Co.; Hudson, OH; Oct. 26, 2016

Tuesday, March 29, 2016

Off the Grid

I've been "off the grid" for about twenty-four hours. That phrase ("off the grid") sounds as if it belongs in an episode of 24 or some other spy/thriller show. For me, it's meant just silencing Facebook (it's been a little rowdy there lately--what with the campaigns and what-not), neglecting to do posts on my two blogs (this one and Daily Doggerel). Feeling sad/pessimistic about the State of the World--which, of course, is what Old Guys have done since there first were Old Guys.

Even more fun: All I did was lie around in bed and listen to the wind howl (and it was howling ferociously most of the day yesterday). Upstairs, in my bed, I always imagine that the wind, like the Big Bad Wolf, will blow our house down (after some huffing and puffing). So far, this hasn't happened, though there are always ominous creaks and groans--some from the house, some from me. There were times yesterday when I hoped the wind would succeed--while Joyce was out somewhere, of course.

I don't know what "triggered" my latest Descent into the Gloom. I can always blame some of it on Lupron, the cancer-retarding drug I've been on for about two and a half years. One of the side effects is ... gloom. Part of it is just hearing time's winged chariot hurrying near (that great line I just stole from Andrew Marvell's marvelous "To His Coy Mistress"--link to the poem if you've forgotten it). Marvell (1621-1678) startled me when I first read him--was it at Hiram High School? I just couldn't believe that an important writer--one in an anthology!--would write about ... you know? ... sex? I thought those guys/women wrote only about birds and fields and stuff I (a) didn't understand, (b) didn't care about.

I was wrong. Very wrong, as I was to discover in my subsequent reading. Oh, some of those writer types were naughty! (And, thus, I became an English major and teacher.)

I've been trying to talk/work myself out of this funk today. I didn't get up early, as I usually do. In fact, I didn't wake at all until I heard Joyce returning from her early-morning workout at the health club.

But I dragged myself out of bed, cleaned up (a major step!), decided to bake some maple-pecan scones (with Ohio maple syrup)--I'm nearly out, and I eat one every morning for breakfast. I sat down to work at the computer and realized--only about twenty-four hours after my grid-getting-off that I missed being there, a little.

And so I'm going to post this in a minute. Then re-activate my Facebook account so I can share this. (The Facebook Gods, I'm sure, are smiling, elbowing one another, saying: I told you so! He's a wimp!)

And so I am ...

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