As I was picking up Mr. Betty's shirts at Del Nero's not long ago, I had the lamest thought, i.e., it's so strange how we walk the same paths again and again (and again) doing who-knows-what without really thinking about it, and in so doing time passes WAY TOO FAST — in the blink of an eye, as they say.
Seriously, wasn't it just last week that the crocuses (croci?) popped up? Then the first daffodil? Then LOTS of daffodils? Then, poof, they're gone. Or, rather, they're just husks. Entire fields of husks — along Memorial Drive and/or the corner of America's Cup and Farewell, between the cemeteries — with specific instructions warding off aggressive lawn-mowing practices, lest all those sunny daffodils not pop again next year.
I dunno — it's just sad.
It makes me want to try really hard to concentrate, to really NOTICE each thing I'm doing, each step I'm taking (fat chance), so they don't all blend/blur into one another without leading anywhere in particular ...
