The Bloggy Blogface!

  Once every couple months, I get fed up with the squeaking storm door and spray some lubricant onto the hinges. Sometimes I'll put a little straw thing at the opening, in order to keep the lubricant a steady stream onto the afflicted area. Other times I am either drunk or lazy and just wing it without the straw. If it sprays the area, good enough for me. They're just door hinges, right? The strange thing with this door's squeaks is that it elicits a different sound after every elapsed period of spraying the hinges. As if the hinges wish to sing me the songs of their people. At first I don't mind the melodic sounds of metal rubbing against one another, but once it begins sounding like a screeching hyena top forty jam, it's time to take action. Since I tend to uproot every few years, I've yet to find the comforting sounds that reassure me this place is alright. The closest thing here so far might be the faint noises of church bells some six-hundred feet aw...

   A friend and I talk from time to time through various messenger applications. She is married with a few young kids, and works typical weekday hours for the state government. As a parent I'm she has her hands tied for quite a long time after work. Picking up kids from here and there, helping with dinner, eating, cleanup, family time, then tucking everyone into bed at a reasonable hour. We'll speak late, for her anyway, up until a time where I don't hear from her anymore. Usually between ten and midnight, but closer to ten. She doesn't tell me she's falling asleep, doesn't tell she's checking up on kids - she just stops typing. We'll either reconnect the next day, or whenever. Sometimes she'll apologize then, but she really doesn't have to. This friend and I have known each other for awhile - about fifteen years to be exact. As our lives have kept us apart, we've been able to use various forms of social media to connect and check in whene...