Summer and autumn are arguing with each other; autumn is winning.

There is a new public service ad on television — a cowboy rides into view, then swings off his horse and lights a cigarette. Whomp! the horse falls dead. A message rolls across the screen, something like second hand smoke is deadly.

I think of this as my neighbor and I sit on the deck, in the rain, putting poison into our bodies.

I wonder how tough it was to train that horse to fall down?

Avoiding the news, distracting myself from my tiredness, I’ve been watching Home & Garden Television. Why do people want their bedrooms to look like hotel rooms? Designed and impersonal? I don’t get it. Even if you get all shy and conservative in the rest of your house, isn’t this the one room that ought to most reflect your uniqueness, as a person, as a couple?

Today, in the States, we acknowledge Columbus Day — that most ambiguous of holidays. Some celebrate; some protest; some mourn. Another reminder of the natural diversity of this nation.

I’ve been thinking lately about intelligence — what kind, how much, does it matter?

My dogs desperately need haircuts; the kitchen cupboards are bare; books and magazines and midstream projects are scattered on the livingroom floor. But I sit, and watch television, and think.

That’s all.