The morning started out sunny. The clouds took over for a bit then the sun returned but disappeared quickly. I think that will be the pattern though cloudy is the forecast. It is warm and humid. It is 83˚, but a wind is keeping it from being oppressive.

My slipper, the one with the hole, has disappeared. It was on the floor by my bed last night. I doubt it left voluntarily. I checked under the bed and in the yard. I didn’t find it. Later I’ll do a more comprehensive hunt.

Lately I have been a bit bored. Nothing holds my interest too long. I jump from activity to activity. The laundry pile is getting tall enough for mountain status. The kitchen floor is filled with paw prints. The dust in this room is thick, Miss Havisham type dust. The plants cry out for water when I walk by them. My sheets are ready to walk themselves to the cellar. I need to get motivated.

My dump run is slated for today as it is closed Tuesday and Wednesday. The only trash bags waiting to be hauled to the car are filled with used cat litter, heavy used cat litter. I need a Sherpa.

When I was growing up, we lived in a project. We even called it the project. Each house was a duplex, one side the mirror image of the other. We never thought of project as a pejorative word. It was just our house. The five rooms were sort of small. In the kitchen we all couldn’t sit at the table, squeezed against the wall, at the same time, just the four of us kids ate together. That was okay as my mother aways ate at the counter, and my father got home late. The living room was where we spent most of the time. The TV was there, in the corner of the room, mostly across from the couch. The living room had a picture window. Upstairs were the three bedrooms and the bath. My room overlooked the back and side yards. The double bed I shared with my sister took up a good deal of space. The rest was taken up with a desk and a bureau. I never used my desk much. My mother and father brought it down to me here. It is in the cellar piled with boxes. I haven’t any space. We had a huge cellar where my mother did her washing and where we sometimes played when it rained. The Christmas boxes and some toys and games were also stored in the cellar. The house I live in by myself is bigger than the house where the six of us lived for a long while, before we moved here to the cape.

Everything is quiet. I can hear only the rustling of leaves from the backyard when the tree branches twist in the wind. The dogs are having their morning naps. Even pesky Nala is quiet and probably dreaming about chewing slippers.

The sky is cloudy, and the air is perfectly still. The morning is a bit noisy. From the street behind mine, I can hear a lawnmower. The operator of said lawnmower does not realize he is breaking Sunday protocol. Lawns are mowed on Saturday. It is a long tradition.

It is only 72˚ right now, and the temperature won’t get much higher, maybe a degree or two. The high humidity makes the air feel a bit chilly. The clouds are staying around all day.

I haven’t yet decided what to do today. I have been loading trash into the car but am saving the dump for tomorrow. I need something to look forward to, and I still need to change the cat litter.

Alexa and I had another useless conversation this morning. She told me it was time to reorder cat litter, the blue crystals I tried a while back. Did I want it on my shopping list? No, I said. No, what, Alexa asked. I said do not add the blue crystals to my shopping list. She said I had no shopping list. Did I want to start a shopping list? I told her to shut up. She did.

When I was a kid, just about every kid I knew had a bike and a sled. Bikes were mostly regular size. Little two wheelers with training wheels weren’t around. It didn’t make much sense to go from a tricycle to a bike with four wheels. I learned to ride on the street in front of my house. My mother taught me. I don’t remember falling, but I suspect I might have. I didn’t have elbow pads or a helmet. Scrapes were part of the learning curve. I always thought a little blood was an incentive to learn to ride quickly.

Nala and I play catch down the hall She starts by bringing me her round, fluffy pink ball with a face and ears. I throw it. She runs then returns it. The game doesn’t usually last too long. Nala gets distracted easily. Usually Henry is the reason.

Speaking of Henry, he came in the dog door today. It fit his purpose to run to the front door and bark at the woman walking her dog. He went out again, and in a bit, he banged the door for me to let him in. I did. Without an emergency, Henry will stay outside that door waiting. I did try to wait him out the other day. It didn’t work. I felt guilty after a half hour.