The last of the Brood X cicada carcasses are being feasted on by ants. I saw one single live one yesterday, which was probably wondering where everyone went. The party’s over, mate; guess you won’t be passing along any genes. The temperature dropped more than 25 degrees today from yesterday. Rain, clouds, and gloomy skies for most of the day, but the sun did peek through late this afternoon. It was a hibernating-type of day, and I’ve come to realize I like rainy days scattered throughout the sunny ones, and not just because it means the garden gets free water. It feels good to pull in every so often; to not feel like I have get things done (whatever thing that is). The older I get, the more pulling in feels good instead of feeling like procrastination. I say this as the weeds are taking over the landscaping, the dishes are piling up in the sink, and the backlog of my creative endeavors grows larger every day that I don’t write that piece I’d been planning or fix those online book ads or contact that person who’s key to helping move my creative writing along. For the first time in years, letting things go and feeling okay about getting to them when I get to them—if at all—is comforting more than annoying. Or maybe this is just the calm before the storm. If that’s the case, it’s a good thing I’m taking the time now to rub oil and that funky salve into my aching feet and legs to help them recover: one from bearing THE BOOT and the other from bearing the body weight. I’ll need to be ready when the action strikes.