I bought my ancient laptop a little house so it can come outside with me.
There were simpler models but the foil-like canopy sold me. It has the air of a fire shelter. Maybe we could put the cat in it if wildfires flare up in the U.P.
It’s very cozy. It makes me feel like I’m writing secrets.
There is a level of self-indulgence involved here, I will admit. But I am, at least up here on Lake Superior, immune to criticism, even my own, which in other locales, can be quite plentiful.
So I am here, writing in the sun as Hemingway might have done years ago with a pad of paper and a #2 pencil.
I have wonderful company. It’s fabulous.