Indian Summer

It was another fabulously gorgeous day today with temperatures in the mid-eighties. A bright blue sky was filled with puffy cumulus clouds. We are definitely having our Indian summer. At one point, I laid a quilt out in the backyard and lay on my side reading a book for the longest time soaking in the bright sunlight. My neighbor’s dog, Rosie, accompanied me and vied for my attentions. She got many a belly rub and a back scratch. She is such a pleasant and sweet dog. I wish she was mine.

Some Hispanic fellows stopped by around lunch time and asked if they could clean up my yard for money. They spoke very broken English and I could hardly communicate with them. My two years of Spanish during high school has been long forgotten. The leaves have started to fall in earnest and I have been feeling lazy and have neglected the task of raking them up. I paid them twenty dollars to clean up my yard. The only drawback to this plan was the raucous roar of their leaf blower and it chased me away from my quiet session reading on my quilt outside. It chased Rosie off as well.

After a lunch of a tuna sandwich and potato chips, I walked down to the shopping center to see what was going on. I sat on the bench next to Slop and started to read the latest Model Railroader magazine. Slop started to make fun of me for wanting to play with “toy trains” when he saw what I was reading. This was coming from an older man who spends his entire time sitting in front of a grocery store begging people for spare change. I dismissed his petty banter and he soon shut up.

George was nowhere to be seen today and I missed him. Cap w/ Tag Guy was selling his usual wares. He had this huge mug of what I think was a soft drink and was jamming out to his Sony walkman. You could hear the muted beat of the music as you walked by coming from his headphones. His head was nodding to the beat and the tag on his cap was flailing about wildly.

As the afternoon lingered on and the sun lowered on the horizon, I decided I needed to walk back home after reading my magazine. I feared that they would have called from work asking me to come in for deliveries. Alas, I made it home and the only message on my answering machine was one from my mother telling me that I had an appointment with my psychiatrist tomorrow and that we would go out to eat at the Red Lobster afterwards; all in all, a pleasant day.