A delicate, delicate, delicate crescent moon rose in the eastern sky this morning ... seductive as a whisper ... beckoning to the sun.
I slept poorly last night, perhaps because today is the day I have to go to the bank and find a way to scrape together the rent/mortgage money. It is a prospect I do not like: A sense of being behind the financial curve is like a hungering case of body odor ... present and inescapable. And an email from the local newspaper editor saying he would "think about" the article I submitted (tr. I think I'll give this one a pass) seems to add to the B.O. blues.
My mother used to say, "Don't get hungry or tired." Hungry-and-tired skews the view and enhances a sense of being behind the eight ball. I am tired and imagine I should eat some breakfast. Being afraid of anxiety and sadness is a young man's sport, but a little cereal probably wouldn't hurt.
And now the sun is up, enticed from its darkened lair by a delicate, delicate, delicate crescent moon. It reminds me of the old saying, "A man chases a woman until she catches him."
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