Last clean-up in the kitchen — put plastic over the yummy pumpkin cake with apple struedel topping Margie made today. Take down the trash for the collectors to haul off tomorrow morning — including, sadly, the microwave I first bought here in Denver when I moved, in a desperate late-night frenzy of big-box shopping, lest I be forced to reheat leftovers on the stove or in the oven.
Big, bright full moon out, all the moreso for the unlit lights at the neighbors’ houses. First full moon Halloween in some decades, and last for some decades more. Cats are inside, doubtless annoyed, but precaution (especially for little black Indy) against random cruelty.
Lots of words written, a portent of things to come starting tomorrow. Rey’s designed a t-shirt — a must-have for the “Writing in the Dark” group.
Writing is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as the headlights, but you make the whole trip that way.
— E. L. Doctorow (b. 1931)
Beep-beep.
And good night.