Never been much of an imagist writer or ponderer until I got older, after 40 for sure.  Now in this new condo I see the gravity more so of both.  74 degrees outside, perfect.  Need to get some things at store… then what.  Keep moving.  Discover something, new conversations.  Thought about getting a beer by myself at Flagship, see if they have a game on or something.  Possibility, okay…

Out window trees moving a little, one side, other.  Wind forcing weird sounds from the doors, condo walls.  My thoughts halt themselves, wanting to listen.  Studying my written reaction things, people, work and my kids… curiosity and fear that it’s only in that bit of breaths then gone.  Overthinking ad doing more thinking that living, as you know about me if you’ve read even a small spoonful of Mike Madigan posts.

2:10 ready to get a break from the house.  Dad said the other day that breathing the house’s air for too long isn’t good for you, in reference to the kids being inside for prolonged periods and going at each other like nasty neighboring nations.  Thought that exact through before he said it, by a day or two.  Not the first time that’s happened with Dad’s thoughts and mine own.  Can’t remember the other examples, but I know it’s happened before.  Heeding his words and leaving—