The morning is bright and already getting hot. I am in the den which is dark in the morning and feels cooler than the rest of the house. That always reminds me of my mother. She pulled down every shade in the house on hot days to make the house cooler. The living room was always dark.

Again, for another day, I have no plans. I have an empty, yellowing dance card. I don’t need anything, no groceries or animal food, though I wouldn’t mind a Snickers. A dump run is on my to do list, maybe tomorrow, maybe not tomorrow.

When I was a kid, bologna on white bread with yellow mustard was my usual lunch. The bologna came in a roll. I wasn’t great at slicing. One side of the bologna would be thin while the other side would often be thick. The bread seemed to curl around the bologna and sink in the middle. When I was a little older, I added hot peppers to the sandwiches. The peppers came in a jar. I used to cut them into two and add them to the bologna. The bread didn’t hold up well to the peppers. Dessert was whatever cookies were left in the cabinet, Oreos or chocolate chip if we were lucky.

I loved the library on hot days. It always felt cool. I used to sit at one of the wooden tables and read. Usually the library wasn’t very busy on summer days so the librarian didn’t care how long I sat there. I spent so much time in that library I can still close my eyes and see it as it was.

The Dairy Queen used to be across from what was the high school. If I had some change, I’d bike down and buy a cone with that hard chocolate cover. I remember you had to be careful or the chocolate cracked and came off in one piece. Sometimes the piece fell to the ground. That was so awful, so horrific. My father used to hate it if we called it ice cream. He’d always say it was ice milk. You added milk to a powder to make it. Back then, my father worked for Hood Ice Cream so he knew his ice cream or his not ice cream.

Everything is quiet. Even the dogs are napping. I’m going to do a bit of reading to while away the afternoon.

I have just returned from hell. I had a doctor’s appointment in Hyannis. It is cloudy so every tourist is on the road looking for entertainment. I sat through so many light cycles my car started growing weeds and assorted greenery. From today onward, my dance car is empty. Hallelujah!

When I was a kid, every summer day was a busy day. I always found something to do. My town was filled with places to visit. The most expensive spot was the pool at the cost of a dime. I remember the teenagers lying on their towels around the pool. They were couples. The lifeguard kept an eye on them. Many summer days the pool was so crowded you couldn’t really swim, but you could dive. I loved diving off the board. I used to stand on the end, aim at the water then dive. I was probably ten or eleven. Rainy days meant staying inside reading or playing in the cellar. I remember my cowgirl days when I’d pretend to be riding a horse better known as the bannister and the end of the railing going down the cellar stairs. It was a speedy horse.

When I was in my teens, we used to go out more at night. I remember when Carrol’s, the burger joint, opened on Main Street. Hamburgers and milkshakes were 15 cents each. French fries were a dime. It was the spot to be, to hang around, to drive through the lot. It was always crowded. Sometimes we went to the drive-in. The closest was in North Reading. You paid by the car load so my friends and I filled the car. Some nights, we’d go bowling. I was terrible at bowling. We’d miniature golf. I was pretty good at golfing, but sometimes the windmill stymied me.

Fast forward to now. I prefer to be a sloth, to stay home, to wear my cozies and to read or watch movies. I don’t get bored. I like naps. I hate traffic. I’m just fine staying home, my very happy place.