My computer died on Tuesday morning which is why the day’s entry was sparse. The screen was black. The loading slide loaded half way then stopped then reloaded half way then stopped and that happened on and on, over and over. I held back the tears. I looked on my iPad for possible solutions. I tried them all including the one which suggested I turn off the machine, hold on to at least seven keys then turn the computer back on. The only result of that fiasco was a sore hand and a black screen. I turned off my computer and wrote the day’s musings on my iPad. I couldn’t get the picture or the music to load so I stopped with my musings and left the computer to die with dignity.

I knew I didn’t have the money for a new Mac and just couldn’t imagine going back to Windows. I decided to work with my iPad. I wasn’t happy. The computer sat there in front of me taunting me. I covered it with a shroud. Okay, I didn’t, but I wanted to. On Wednesday afternoon my sister asked me if I’d tried again. I hadn’t but decided to give it the old college try. I flexed all the tips of my fingers anticipating. I turned it on. I heard music, the songs of angels. My computer was back!

I’m confused about the season. It is too warm for winter, but many trees are bare, and Halloween has passed. A shirt is warm enough for outside. My e-mailbox is filled with recipes for Thanksgiving. I’m dreaming of turkey especially after I keep seeing wild turkeys wandering. They are a sign, an omen.

Tomorrow I start finger therapy. My finger is looking good, at least by comparison. It is no longer encircled with an around the finger scab from the stitches which have almost disappeared; however, the knuckle and the finger above it are ugly, still misshapen and swollen. It gave me a memory. A science fiction film came to mind, one about an evil hand.

Last night while I was lying in bed, I thought I heard voices. I lifted my head off the pillow and listened more intently, but I didn’t hear a thing. I turned off the light and went to sleep. This morning I came downstairs and the TV was on. I hadn’t turned it off when I went upstairs to bed. That was strange, but I then remembered last night. I went to the back door to let the dogs in from the yard and went right to bed through the dining room. I didn’t think about the den and the TV. Either that or I am going a bit crazy.

When I was a kid, I loved the sound of the radiators. There was one on the wall at the foot of my bed. I could hear it gurgle and hiss. It sang me to sleep at night. When I was cold, I used to put my feet under the radiator until they either got warm or started to burn. My mittens went on top of the radiator when they were wet and covered with snow. My wet shoes went under the radiator to dry. This house has hot air. I can hear the blowing when the heat is on. I have a quieter house but nowhere to put my mittens.

Today is an ugly day. It rained during the night and will continue to rain on and off all day, but it is warmish at 61°. I love rainy days, and I love the lamps lit on rainy days. They shine through the gloom, through the darkness the rain brings. They give me a sense of warmth.

I hope to start playing my uke again tomorrow, my usual lesson day. I haven’t touched my uke in 5 weeks. I’ve lost my callouses. With the pins gone, I think I can strum with my thumb until my pointer finger is less swollen and can bend better.

The dogs are napping upstairs on my bed. I guess they love the comfort. I feel ignored.

Today is not a pretty day. The humidity is 92%. The clouds are grey, a lightish grey. Every now and then there is a breeze. I can see brown leaves at the ends of oak tree branches. I can also see some red leaves. I have nowhere I need to go today. I have no reason to get dressed. I’ll stay in my comfies.

When I was a kid, school was misery on Halloween. I was so excited for trick or treating I was distracted, paying only half attention to the lessons and the nun at the front of the room. I could hear every movement of the second hand, every click minute by minute. Time did not pass. The watched clock never moved.

When school was finally over, dismissal was noisy and loud. I went out the back door, the little used door. It gave me an advantage for the run home. Once there, I got out of my school clothes into my play clothes and went back to clock watching. I’d try to distract myself with a little TV. I’d bolt down my supper then beg my mother to let me leave to go trick or treating. It is too early was always her answer.

We’d get into our costumes and sit on the couch bag in hand. Finally we had out first trick or treater, and my mother would let us loose. When I was young, my brother and I used to go together. We’d start in our neighborhood and branch out from there. We went far afield. I remember the house with the columns across from the First National where they gave out nickel bars. We never missed that house. When there were few trick or treaters left and the outside lights had gone dark, we’d start for home. I remember the walk up Pomeworth Street and the sounds of our feet hitting the sidewalk pavement. I remember it was dark.

We got comfortable at home, put our candy in individual bowls and started the big swap, candy for candy, what we didn’t like swapped for what we did like. We’d go through our bowls. We had apples. Some of them had coins, a few pennies and a rare nickel. The money we kept. The apples we gave to my mother. I was never a fan of popcorn balls. We gave those to my mother too. We ate as much candy as we could before my mother put a stop to it. The evening had taken only an instant compared to the passing of the day. We stayed up later because we had no school the next day, All Saint’s Day. We did have to go to church though.

I stashed my bowl under my bed. It stayed there until it was empty. That was the unofficial end of Halloween.