An’ then, an’ then I hit him in the eye
An’ I told him I wasn’t gonna be dead no more ’cause I din’t wanna be.
–Teeter totter dream kid/Trouthaven
There are a couple of boys on the teeter totter across from the cabin, maybe 5 and 7 years old. The younger one, who sounds a lot like a miniature Barry Kripke (Bawwy Kwipke), has been trying to get the older kid to listen to him tell about the dream he had last night. It’s been going on for nearly an hour. I have no idea what it was about, because I can only hear him when the wind blows this way and he’s at the top of the teeter totter.
During a lull in the dream story, he also discovered the properties of the fulcrum:
Hey! When I sit faw away fwom the handle I am heaview than you aw. An’ when I sit close to it you weigh mow.
I am drinking coffee and have started my nth novel of the trip. Bag of Bones. It isn’t scary yet.
Mostly I’m watching the ripples on the lake and smiling at the bits of dream talk from the teeter totter.
Now and then I have another sip of coffee while Mark does whatever it is you do to a fishing pole if you’re going to fish from a boat instead of from the dock.
My coffee has long since gone cold.
I don’t mind.
Oh! Apparently I’m going fishing too.
Gotta go.
