Plans fall apart. People drift away. We read the paper. Walk the dog and I do another business call before we go for a short walk.

With dog on leash, we walk the neighborhood. The generators used by the impossibly rich nearby purr. Their lawns are tidy. The wood neatly piled. I bet their tanks are full and their kids are acing their exams.

Dinner is pasta at the local Italian restaurant. It’s come to that.