A great sleep.

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Cool but not too cold, and the cool coming after a period when it was nearly too warm, at least for me.  Rain drops tapping on the roof, pretty much since I went to bed.  A need for rest.  Even so, just about the right amount of sleep for life to be good.  Waking just a bit disoriented, even so.  No sun, perhaps.  Or maybe some emotional roiling of late.  Still, a good morning.  The type of morning one wishes to enjoy.  Actually, more like most mornings I remember before becoming ill.  I always pushed and was never a morning man. 

I need to get to the post office.  I have something in, and only hope they kept it.  I kept missing.  I best be off.  After that, I don't know.  While it is the type of morning I remember, I always had someone to tell me what to do until I could do it myself.  School, when younger, a chief or senior petty officer after that.  And, of course, customs, regulations, and all the rest.  I live in a no-man's land, in a way.  Wild and free.  Not because I am untrainable or untenable, but because I am mostly unable to quite fill a role.  And yet, I have found a small place in a small world and made it work.  Mostly.

I know Sam won't want to go out.  Maybe a bit, though probably not.  If it rained for a week, she might go out in the wet a time or two.  As with my mother, she is a fair-weather friend to the outdoors.  Even with the porch and an inlet windowsill or three, even on days she doesn't chase birds or look for mice, she prefers to be out when, if she should want, she would feel good doing so.  Wet days are not such days, even if they are warmer.  Sassy only goes out if the day has been hot and then cools nicely, and even then only once or twice ever few weeks.  Even then, only if I am very patient with the door, and coo just right.  Plus promise to let her in shortly and keep my word.

I know I dreamed.  Several times.  I thought I had grabbed one, and did for a while.  Sleep was simply too good for me to keep hold of the memory, or memories.  Yes, I best get dressed and get going.  When I get back, sometime, a shower then bath.  My feet are becoming human again, with the pumice stone and oil.  Once I get them into right shape, keeping them that way should be easier.  My mother suggested something her fellow uses, gold bond rough skin treatment.  The stuff they make seems to be made more for women.  Doesn't really help men all that much.  I have it on good authority that this stuff works on men. 

Later.