As I sit here in my little piece of the world, it gives me lots of time to think.  Lately I have come up with a couple of fantasies that please me.

One, of course is that from this blog thing, it will be discovered after I die and one of my family will find it and it will immediately be found out to that a poor, isolated woman wrote down her last um...ah...what do you call it?  Memoir or something?  It's not that fancy, but since I don't have a thesaurus.,, At any rate, it gets discovered somehow and people read it and I become a mega star post mortem and my kids get lots of money.

Yes, I know it's not going to happen.  These words will end up in the breeze just like so many other things, but so what?  I am not going to change the world, but leave a small piece of me here.  Also I already said it's a fantasy and I certainly am a romantic if nothing else :)

The other fantasy of the hour is my isolation.  To be a recluse here, in the 1950's would be so cool.  Like all the neighbors see Jerry coming and going and stuff and they know when he goes to work.  But they never see me.  Oh the dogs go in and out, but it's almost as if a ghost is there or a timed automatic door lets them go in and out.

There is no noise from me.  I don't yell for the dogs.  You don't hear a radio, any music or television.  One light ever gets turned on, but for what?  Dun dun dun...  Oh the things kids of old might have thought.  Maybe I'm a witch.  Or a ghost.  Or a mad old woman who eats children.  Then they would come up to the doorbell and ring it and run.  Their friends would be hiding behind the shrubs off the sidewalk, giggling to see their friend running scared, that friend having lost the bet about who would ring the bell.  They would run by and throw rocks at the window and yell at the creepy old house.

Yeah, that would be the 50's or something.  Nowadays I am sure they see Jerry and think what a weird life, but oh well, who cares?