reporter, blogger, songwriter, cat toy.

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    In the bookstore, already wall to wall Christmas carols out of overhead speakers. At the pet store, more carols rain down in advance of an actual pet Santa appearance. At the chaat house, blessed respite. Then to the grocery store, with tiny trees for sale outside and carols with autotune blaring.

    A glowing red fake log on a constructed glassed in fake brick hearth as part of a firewood sale display at a grocery store, with sprigs of evergreen branches laying on a plain white painted sill outside.

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    Up goes the music, down comes the noise. If I’m still for a moment, I realize I’m not working. I didn’t have to over the last two holidays. Will I figure out how to be efficient, useful, willing to gloss over annoying stressful moments? Hell, can that happen here? I’ll get some reading in and see.

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    Sometimes there’s symmetry, but only if perception permits it. Toggle a domain’s PHP upgrade settings, then notice it’s about to expire so you renew it. Pick up a notepad, then realize it’s opposite the calendar from the last one started. Squint into the mirror while shaving and, well, say no more.

    A Portage brand reporter's notebook with a blue on white glossy cover sits on a thick wooden block table surface next to a similar table held up by metal legs on top of a larger wooden beam floor.

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    There was some Ceiling and Walls discourse early on. The day and its demands intruded soon enough, from early rain to an ocean of numbers into an empty hundred years of nothingness, with a looming gauntlet of words ahead. Tomorrow marks a half year, barely two hundredths of that. But first, sleep.

    Light colored horizontal blinds hanging down over a window while dark colored curtains cover another almost entirely against light gray walls and a ceiling, with a warm, low light source near floorboards softly glowing.

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    Overnight lane closures congest easy breathing paths when least helpful. Calls and emails fly off fingertips and land against poorly configured voicemail boxes and delays in understanding. Clear and warmish days end with clouds massed on the horizon, biding their time and boding ill. shakes fists

    A group of scooters lined up along a short street's curb sit parked under their riders, clad in dark clothing and peering sullenly and intently into their cell phones.

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    I don’t know if I’ve reached the end of denim but I do like being able to layer in cooler weather. A tie, a scarf, a lightweight sweater, a jacket and even the leather jacket I was having second and third thoughts about, all conspire in Chayka-ish gray. Dress for anything, and it just might happen.

    A pewter gray button up shirt with a subtly patterned gray tie under a soft lightweight mid gray sweater under a mid gray scarf and a baggy gray blazer and a worn weathered and baggier leather jacket.

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    Give me a partly quiet day, starting slightly later but just in time to spare a coworker unnecessary travel and travail, followed by a late autumn sun yielding to a nearly full moon, a visit to see some expected and unexpected folk in old stomping grounds, and the promise of more time just ahead.

    An elevated highway lane and ramp send cars in opposite directions against a nearby building and a slightly distant city skyline under a slowly rising full moon still low on the eastern horizon.

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    I stayed at home long enough to come up with a fortieth song for the three albums I’d planned to release early Monday. But I messed up and released one album about an hour ago. I’ll put the other two up tomorrow evening, and figure out how best to mark these latest approaches to music domination.

    A seasonal twenty inch pine branch and cone, marketed as twenty inch swag, atop a display outside a grocery store for ten dollars and ninety-mine cents according to a sign pinned nearby.

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    Off the street, tinkering with albums, soaking up sun like the lazy beloved housecat does, and reading about more Ceiling and Wall stuff, thanks to a timely Mastodon share. Will I go out tomorrow if I can help it? Signs point to no, but it may happen. Enough to do here without external obligations.

    Steam rises from a circular manhole cover in a low cloud in the middle of a wide street as a person wearing a hooded coat and jeans rides her bicycle, with afternoon sunlight behind her casting a shadow in front of her.

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    I have totally been blowing off the prompts from one of my apps about gratitude this month. I didn’t think I would think about the prompts until a conversation today while I was assembling a thing I’m going to put up Monday. But yes, doing stuff and waiting long enough for it to be novel is clutch.

    A soft and pale gray T-shirt pocket, worn by a person and seen in fluorescent hallway bathroom sink light.

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