About Time (part 2.058)

To my dearest people, I am in a rocking chair on the porch at the Caratunk House Bed and Breakfast, compulsively tipping back and forth, and not paying enough attention to this chess game. I am not a sore loser. (Ahaha that is not true. I definitely am. I hate losing, and I definitely resent…

About time.

I wasn’t going to write you again so soon… But here I am with my Portland-brewed coffee porter in my hand, and my stomach full of a Patriot Meal ™, sitting clean and warm and dry on the carpet of this fine, wonderful hostel like a small torpid mushroom. I don’t actually remember what torpid…