Tyson in his doghouse... an old
cabinet off in a corner.Work went okay in the morning. Tyson has been become my new matutinal aide, coming to the bedroom door at about 6:30 every day and making a racket until I let him in, so that he can sit at my bedside and have his head scratched. He is saving Epril the bother of having to poke my nose and tickle my ribcage and climb on top of me and pry my eyes open in order to get me out of bed, and I'm sure she is appreciative.
In the evening, Epril and I rode in to CDO for dinner at the Japanese Restaurant and drinks with the folks at Spooks. I talked with Spooks' owner Mike, and he is pretty worried about the police coming along and closing him down. I sincerely hope that does not happen: Spooks is — more than anywhere else in town — the expatriates' club house.
The drive back to Jasaan was very nice: A cool, clear night after a good rain storm. The new lights on the motorcycle are now doing their job fantastically.
When we got back to Jasaan, we found that the power had gone out, and the town was a beautiful darkscape of flickering candles in windows and on porches and little roadside campfires, with folks sitting outside finding company in the darkness. The clouds had moved off and left Jasaan under a fantastic starlit sky. Epril, Fatima, Ednil and I lit 40 or 50 tea candles, and turned our house into a cozy bright spot on the block. We sat out on the front porch and (I apologize for saying) allowed ourselves to be entertained by the sundowning rants of a demented member of the local senior citizenry who lives with the family across the street, her shouts about smelly vaginas coming to us out of the darkness.
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