It is finally here, the shortest day of the year, the longest night of the year. I waited 180 days for this one. Now, tomorrow we’ll gain 12 or so seconds of daylight, a supposed infinitesimal amount, but then it will not be the opposite way around. If it was the opposite way around, and kept on going, we’d soon be enshrouded in darkness. Instead, in six months’ time we’ll be enshrouded in light.

The summer solstice, it’s the other way around. The downside, the following day the days again grow shorter.

This day is like a holiday to me. I timed my project work so that I’d have off.

I did, at 2 a.m. wonder what I was going to do today since I have gotten into the bad habit of filling my time by salvaging, sorting, categorizing, and distributing books. And I have in the process lost something I highly valued, the ability to make the day my own.

But it turned out to be a good day.

I drove to Sutton and mailed an e-bay book. I like going to the Sutton Post Office because there is no line, just Larry, the ebullient postmaster, who holds court behind the counter, conversing with all who enter about a wide variety of topics. Yes, it’s worth the extra driving time, to go to small town Sutton, this as opposed to going to big town Palmer where the P.O. line is (as I say) longer than that for those waiting to see (the movie) Mary Poppins. I also stocked the rotating bookshelf.

I returned home, ate lunch, then began doing my pre-reading breathing exercises. Pete was headed out skiing with the dogs. I wanted him to want me to go with him, in other words, I was looking for an invite. None came. I began doing my breathing exercises, and in the process, I had a revelation. This was that this was what I was supposed to be doing. I’m resuming my body work at ground zero, focusing on breathing. This is very important.

I next went outside and tended to the animals. I was going to take Hrimmi out, but Tyra made it known that she had to get out. So I took her around the loop. A good thing to do.

Next, I came back inside and took a look at The People’s Paper/Make a Scene – a community newspaper that is the epitome of poor journalism. I located the article I wrote, and the editor published, and the poems Bill and his poetry cronies wrote, and the editor published.

The first line of Bill’s poem began with “Alys” – I don’t know why because nothing that followed in any way addressed me. Then I had this amazing revelation, which was I’d write a poem about Bill and submit it to Make A Scene.

Then I had yet another revelation and this was – the setting of my poem could be the recycling center/book project sorting. This way (if I also write an article) I would further promote the book project. And it wouldn’t cost anything.

So yes, I wrote this poem, and I will submit it before the January 10th deadline.

A good day in terms of revelations.

Next: 351. 12/22/22: Back to work