Poor Hubris! All retired from day-to-day working and already can’t tell what day it might be.
‘Cause, y’know, it’s important to know what day it is when you’re hanging out in the woods with furry friends.
Or was that ‘season’ it is?
I can’t remember.
Even without retirement you eventually come to recognize only three measurements of time.
Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow.
Kinda
grumble
“Cheer up?”
This story line reminds me of “A Hard Day’s Night” when Ringo drops out of the Beatlemania whirlwind to go “parading”, only to get bored with being a “deserter”. Will Hubris end up getting hauled in by cops? Or maybe park rangers?
No ticks in those woods? If I laid on the ground anywhere here in Illannoy I’d have them things crawling on me.
Marco: “Tuesdays are trash days. Mondays are when we go hungry…”