Not supper
My evening, day, whatever was topped off by the smell of roasting kamikaze moth crisping in a living room lamp; tendrils of smoke wafting toward the ceiling.
I had just returned to the disaster of a dining room when the scent drifted toward me. Now admittedly, since it wasn’t me cooking things probably weren’t that bad. After all, I had managed to catalog do release notes for another 50 or so paperbacks, pack my suitcase, print out what I needed for the trip and run a few errands.
George is off in the morning for Lisbon. Too bad that the Aeris annual outing moved to someplace I would like to go – but I didn’t find out until after I had made final payment on my cruise.
I was reminded it was the 4th by the programming on KQED and the following pictures provided by Maus.
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