Fifteen minutes ago, the morning was lovely. Since then, clouds have arrived. It is 73˚ right now and feels less humid than it has been. No rain is on the horizon, for a while anyway.
I have a new house theme, The Tumbling Tumbleweeds. Dust balls fly in the air when I walk down the hall. My choices are to ignore them or vacuum. Ignoring them means they'll grow larger and reproduce. Okay, not really reproduce, that's a theme from a black and white B science fiction movie, dust bunnies grow teeth and attack, but they'll definitely be more of them so I'm going to bite the bullet and vacuum.
My father used to keep what he called a tucker in his wallet. It was a hundred dollar bill. He kept it for emergencies. When I was young, I always wanted to see it. A hundred dollar bill was a rarity. I remember my father would open his wallet, pull out the bill, unfold it then show it to me with a flourish. I'd hold it for a bit then he'd take it, fold it and tuck it back into this wallet.
In my mind's eye I can see all of the places where I've lived. The kitchen in the house where I grew up was small. The sink was across from the door. My mother kept a dish rack on the counter and a triangular shaped garbage holder in the corner of the sink. That had to be emptied into the in-ground garbage bin. I always hated emptying it. The fridge was beside the sink. It was skinny and had one of those small freezers which always seemed to be covered in ice. . The stove too was skinny. It was across the room from the fridge. The appliances were white. On the counter was the turtle bowl. It was shaped almost like a wave you'd draw in art class. The turtle could swim or rest on an island of sorts with a palm tree, a plastic palm tree. My mother usually fed the turtle in the morning when she was preparing breakfast. In the summer the turtle got stunned flies to eat. He loved those the most. I used to do my homework at the kitchen table. The back door was across from the table. The screen door always slammed. That drove my mother crazy. The rest of us never noticed.
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