Waiting for nothing to happen

During the last year I’ve been rereading the blog and putting it into book form. I now regret that I stopped writing personal posts. I also regret that I wasn’t more detailed about the people I met. Who were the two ladies in New York I went to lunch with? Not surprisingly, I find I am still ranting about all of the same things: climate change, vagaries of the healthcare system, high cost of persecution drugs. Also, I’m surprised at how much I traveled. It’s no wonder I’ve been feeling so confined for the last three years.

I’ve been very careful. Mostly I stay home. I try to go out and walk in my neighborhood for at least one and a half miles every day.. When the Covid case count is low I get on the bus and walk in a different neighborhood. I want to run away but, at the same time, I’m not unhappy when a flight plan falls through. I’m supposed to go with Kathy to see the Pompeii exhibit at the Carnegie Science Center on Thursday and go to Philadelphia next week. We’ll see.

I’m working on my 108th book called Waiting for Nothing to Happen, Third Year. It’s all pictures of sidewalks. If this goes on for another year, a distinct possibility, maybe I’ll take pictures of bricks.

Now that I’ve gone beyond 100 books, maybe I’ll change the name of the blog. Also, I may make it private for the next few months. If I know you and you want to continue following me, you have to let me know. I’ll give you a little warning before I do it.

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