June bugs in May
10:00 p.m.
I lie in bed at night, counting all twelve strokes at midnight, always waiting for the thirteenth which never happens. There was a book I read as a child, T0m�s Midnight Garden, in which the thirteen chimes of an ancient grandfather clock open a portal between the present and the past and allow a young boy to have a �coming of age� experience. It was a beautiful book and now, thinking about it, I�m hankering after reading it again.
I miss my computer. I don�t miss working on it, but I miss playing on it. Hubby has forbidden me to download instant messenger programs on his laptop, Buddy Boy�s laptop has all sorts of blocks in place (school-board imposed) so that he cannot download anything from the net, and our old G3 is too primitive to run my programs of preference. Besides, Little Princess has that one tied up most of the time.
I really ought to do something about my social life. At the moment it consists of inviting the singer in my daughter�s band in for a cup of tea when he drops her off after practice, and that�s about it. Patsy is still suffering the after effects of shingles and called to let me know she won�t be coming to belly dancing at all this spring session. I can�t really call belly dancing a social outlet because all the other ladies are francophone and I don�t really talk to them. I really need to get a life.
Oh, and the June bugs have been banging at the windows and doors and giving me the willies.
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