"No place on earth was lonely until man came to it, bringing his loneliness with him."
James Ramsey Ullman
This morning I did something I haven't done in ages. I woke up at 9:30 and let my self go back to sleep, which I did for another hour. I think that I need about seven to eight hours of sleep, but this was oversleeping. Now I can say, "who cares" about doing something like that, thought my training has been to think that sitting up till super late or sleeping in are both slightly immoral. I watched Attorney General McKenna on the news this morning. It reminded me that I observed an oddity in the recent election. Who was absent in campaigning for the big senatorial race? McKenna was invisible as a supporter of Dino Rossi. Even more surprising, Maria Cantwell was a total non-presence as a supporter of Patty Murray. That is two big hitters who sat the race out. And that reminds me of the big TSA screening issue. Do I prefer being x-rayed or groped? Hmm. I am not happy about either option. I do not trust the safety of those x-ray machines. Remember I am of the generation that used to go downtown and stick our feet into x-ray machines to see the bones in our feet. Terribly dangerous machines that could have caused mutations! Nor do I trust the seriousness of the people who sit secretly aside and look at the naked shapes of the travelers. Just the thought of the jokes and humiliating attitudes that will go on makes me cringe. On the other hand, being massively groped (when I don't get to choose the groper) is extremely disconcerting. I suppose I would go with the groping, as not likely to be fatal, though momentarily embarrassing. Either way, flying has deteriorated so much in recent years that I no longer fly. I haven't done so since Jeanette died in February of 2003. I guess a funeral might get me into the air, but little else would. The funny thing, though, is that there are no more funerals from my parents' generation coming up. They are all gone. As I sit here at the computer, I can see the leaveless maple across the street (yes, the maple that was so brilliant two months ago), and filtering down between me and it is the lightest drift of snowflakes. They are those teeny, tiny flakes that fall straight down on a windless day. They will not accumulate into any amount of actual snow, though I saw the film of people in Bellingham making fools of themselves in their four inches yesterday, and having foolish fun. Our air is too dry for any real snowfall, though I read that south of here may get some actual snowfall tomorrow. The weeks are flying by since I retired. Retirement is a kind of unmooring of life. The signposts of the year have disappeared and only a conscious notice of them brings them forth. I have no feeling of Thanksgiving being this week, just a calendar knowledge. The sense of "vacation days coming up!" is totally gone now. By the way, that also means that the sense of preparation is also gone. My prevailing mood is, "I can do that tomorrow, or the day after" if I have a mood of doing it at all.