The morning is lending itself to leisure. I’ve done all the newspaper puzzles, had a couple of cups of coffee and two pieces of toast, the heels from my last loaf. I then read the mail from the last couple of days and turned on a movie, 1956’s Indestructible Man. It is so bad it is good.

Earlier was cloudy, but now we have a combo of clouds, the sun and some blue sky. Last night was cold, but the morning is warmer, in the low 40’s. Tonight will get cold again.

The other day I replaced the finished toilet paper roll in the upstairs bathroom. That gave rise to the oft debated question of toilet paper, over or under. I prefer over. My mind then looped and didn’t stop there. It jumped to another question. I wondered about paper towel rolls. They go over, always over. Why is there no controversy?

When I was a kid, my father always went crazy if one of us left a dirty glass on the counter or an empty roll of toilet paper in the bathroom. He used to yell and call the perpetrator lazy for not washing out the glass and putting it in the sink. The toilet paper was stored in the linen closet. That was the excuse. He was right about lazy.

This is spring break week. We never went anywhere as my father worked. His vacation was always in the summer. We had to entertain ourselves. Every day was like a Saturday. We rode bikes. I usually went to the library at least once. I sometimes stayed home and read or watched TV. I don’t remember being bored.

In Ghana I lived alone on the school grounds on one side of a brand new duplex. At first it was difficult. I was homesick, my students didn’t understand my English and I was lonely. I had no one to talk to about how I felt. I wrote letters, not the newsy life in Ghana letters but ones where I poured out my feelings, my sadness, my loneliness. After I’d finished the letter, I’d tear it up. I never send a single one. I didn’t want my parents to know what was happening. I just needed to write those feelings down. After a few months, I didn’t need to write those letters any more. I only wrote newsy letters. I felt connected. I felt at home.

My dance card has only uke events this week, practice, my lesson and two concerts. We are still working on The Beatles book and also now on Jimmy Buffett.

(Side Note: Just in case you run into him, the Indestructible Man can be killed with a bazooka and a flame thrower. Arm yourself accordingly.)

This entry was posted on April 21, 2026 at 12:23 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.