Tired

It's Thursday. Almost Friday.

I did go knock on a neighbor's door to inquire about Mister Bob. Even tho one of their cars was parked in the drive way--nobody answered. Mister Bob's house remains dark this night. I'll try again tomorrow. I pray he's OK. Even tho Mister Bob and I didn't speak everyday, our street seems a little less quiet at the moment.

May snow tomorrow. Don't care. It will be Friday. Just about everything looks good on a Friday. Even the fact I dropped a contact tonight on such a cluttered countertop and couldn't find it. Of course, my order of replacements has arrived yet--so work tomorrow with glasses I bought in the last century--I think. It will still be Friday.

I'm tired.

My feline laden bed awaits my weary bones.

That's it for now.

Stay tuned.