On The Path
Sunday. Better, the day clear, a quick trip to Safeway for cat food after breakfast at the usual place around eight. I'm thinking a trip down to Jack London Square now to walk around a little and maybe find some pictures, see how they're progressing with the palm trees they were planting in front of the building that housed the Old Spaghetti Factory. I'm trying to remember the last time I was in that particular part of Jack London to see the palm trees, how long was it? They've undoubtedly made progress. A good excuse to get out of the apartment. Any old excuse is a good excuse to get out of the apartment.
Later. Got in the car at ten, drove to Jack London, walked about, shot a picture, came back to the apartment and here I am tired but alive. I feel relatively rational with the blood pressure down fifteen points and the head hurting. Well, the upper palate and the teeth are doing their usual routine quite apart from the recovery from this operation thing. I tried something more ambitious for lunch but with less than wonderful results (no need to explain) so we're still waiting on the stomach to get its act together. I have a blood test coming up tomorrow, I'll bring up the low blood pressure again. It's got to be adding to the mix. There are many things going on, I need to deal with them one by one (he said piously with his hand over his heart). But starting tomorrow. Always tomorrow.
Later still. Yesterday's melancholy ended, by the way, with a night's sleep as it always has ended in the past. Doesn't happen often. A chemical imbalance maybe. Too much yogurt, not enough alcohol? Just one of the adventures you find on the path? No complaints.