Saturday coffee.
But getting out of bed this morning was tough.
I turned to focus my blurry vision on the bedside table.
7:12.
If Ulysses doesn’t get fed by 6:30 he starts to whine.
Not bark. Whine.
I’ve lost my last pair of gloves and Target isn’t selling them anymore. No matter. The morning sun is brilliant
Songs I can play on my ukulele.
Bob Dylan sings Hank Williams’ “Lost Highway.”
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