My teeth are not particularly white. I am waiting for this to become fashionable, but willing to accept the fact that it may not.
I woke up 3 times last week on a farm. I’d get up in the morning, fire up the coffee pot, and then go outside. There’s nothing much to look at; fog, various kinds of birds I can’t identify flying in some obvious direction for some obvious reason I don’t know about, a horse, some cattle in the distance on the neighboring small farms.
I’d liked it. I like staying there. Though sometimes at night I get a little creeped out. I think that’s just a result of living in place where you’re not really ever more than a couple dozen yards away from other humans and if something comes up and you yell loud enough for long enough, someone will probably figure they should do something. One gets used to that.
One morning I went for a run, back and forth on the long driveway enough times to get my two-ish miles or twenty-ish minutes in. On the way back in I stopped in front of the barn and tried to make some kind of mystical connection with the horse.
The horse made noises at me that I hadn’t heard a horse make before. To be clear here though, I don’t really know what are common and uncommon horse noises. It was nice out there though in the quiet early Thanksgiving morning fog. But I got a little worried maybe the horse was a bit nuts, which to me would explain why he was out here by himself. For some reason I imagine horses are supposed to live in groups and be social.
Later in the day a little Cajun fellow in a truck told us the horse’s name was LaRue. That seems good to me.
It’s cold here in the city now. Maybe we’ll get a few flurries this weekend. I think we’ll put up a Christmas tree and have a nice time.