As I was about to put water in the coffeepot to make coffee Sunday morning, I noticed something in the sink was moving. It was a spider. Now I know what you are saying. “Mitch, it’s just a little spider. Quit being a baby.”

This time of the year, I find myself buying lots of ice.

I checked into a hotel the other night in a little town outside of Lexington. It wasn’t a fancy hotel, but I knew it would be clean and I was able to use some of my reward points to pay for it.

The headline in the Atlanta paper was little jarring for me. Lewis Grizzard, it said, would have been 70 years old last week.

I went to the bank today. That may not sound like a big deal, but I realized after I left that it was probably the first time I’ve been inside a bank in about six months.

I have a policy against things that are supposed to be new and supposed to make my life easier, because most of the time, instead of making my life easier, they usually make it more complicated.

I hated to break the news to Milly, the liver and white springer spaniel who lives at my house. But she needed to hear it and she needed to hear it from me. I waited until the last possible minute, while we were walking in the park along Lake Lanier and she was anxious to get off the leash and into the water.

The phone rang and I saw who it was. I started not to answer, but I knew he’d only call back. Again and again. Until finally I surrendered and answered. So I bit the bullet.