Picking up my cell phone in the living room this morning I found a lovely message left last night at 12:34. Ah, the magic number game, wondering if the message could just have been left at 12:34:56.78. In the early days of working in computer class with DOS one could have a command line with such a strung out time figure, though it could easily be rounded off. The heady days of seeing what kind of figure pile up every stroke of the entry key could produce.

And then the general concept of midnight, narrowed down even from local time. That's when, like the other day during our hot weather, the power went out for a half minute. Too short for a rolling blackout but enough to get attention. Letterman takes his bogus phone calls on a phone which yells "1978" via Dave, and/or his writers. So I long have had a bedside clock radio with two alarms, radio and something approximating the earth's mantle groaning after our species' accomplishments have piled up for too long.

Last night I routinely set the radio alarm to 2:55 to toss and turn all morning while an NPR affiliate's early Saturday jazz program played. Tossing and turning, check. But I looked over in the vicinity of 3:30 to see a silent radio.

Forgot to turn the alarm tab back on; it was turned off after the outage to be restored when I got around to wanting to hear something. Radio turned on, I slept more soundly through the jazz than usual, to the point of having odd dreams. Do you want to know? Something about a movie involving vaguely defined armed robbers, not yet pulling their heist, and one of them literally ties onto a high caliber round to take to the skies---and smack into an airplane. Can't figure it out either.

But daytime comes and the nice message, and the jazz show can be replayed via web site over my much better sounding computer speakers as I have coffee, hash browns, and eggs scrambled with a few leftovers. The blog can be filled with whimsy, and indeed has been overdue this month. In the household there are boxes that take up space but what was shoved in them has not been reviewed for a long time. The mind has similar boxes, but no telling what may slink out of them: tonight and subsequent nights.