Bed Before Ten
Monday. Up with the alarm, not so bad, off to breakfast and back. I was planning on having the car serviced and getting a Protime test (a monthly blood test checking to see if the thinner I take needs adjustment) after breakfast, but drove home instead. Now, however, the day outside looking good, I'm thinking of driving over now (at nine) and getting it done. A sign of life here on the farm. We've been wondering lately if there's any life left here on the farm.
Later. I blew off the car and the blood test and headed in the other direction down Broadway on the bus to the ATM, then on to the Rotunda building for a small caramel latte before finally stopping at Site For Sore Eyes using a circuitous route. I say circuitous because, although I've been thinking of checking and, if necessary, updating the current prescription (replacing a set of glasses I use at the computer that has a broken frame), I didn't decide to actually stop by until I found myself in front of the store. Well, I'm sure I'll have to make an appointment and come back later, so I'll go in and make the appointment.
One set of dilated eyes later, two pair of glasses on order, one for reading/computer use, the other (a promotional “free” pair) for reading only and I was done. Just like that. So much for putting off getting the glasses done.
Another photograph of the cherry blossoms in front of the Oakland City Hall thinking, as I viewed them later in Photoshop, I'd best look harder the next time I photograph them again. Not unlike photographing a crowd, there has to be a focus for the eye to settle on, lead you in and these don't have one. There are pictures there, many if I'd given it more thought, but I wasn't thinking and screwed them up. No upset, I'll do better next time or I won't. We're retired now, we set out our own obstacle course.
So, dilated eyes and all, I stayed on the bus all the way to the morning café and had lunch before heading back to the apartment, arriving here at noon. A nice long circuitous trip. Tomorrow morning, after I get a haircut, I'll take the bus over to the hospital lab for the blood test and take care of the car later in the week. Or the month. I'm not all that late with the car, maybe two weeks beyond the date they write on their little windshield tag, but I'm way short of the suggested mileage to bring it in. I'm always short of the suggested mileage.
Anyway, more thought on my current situation. I'm not so much at a dead end as a change in chapter after reaching this surprising age. It does add limits. So far they're not all that constricting, but best to take advantage of what they do allow and get on with whatever it is one does in his declining years. One or two trips, even if they're short trips somewhere I'd like to go? Is there somewhere I'd like to go? Go out and take some pictures in a place where pictures abound? They abound everywhere, of course, but someplace new where they're more obvious and one doesn't keep taking the same picture over and over because it sits right there on your block? Thoughts like that. Had them before.
And then you forgot about it, switched off the news and took a nap.
No nap yet. And blew it off? Probably. These are not a new thoughts, but ones that have been reoccurring. Spring is here, after all, the weather's nice and there's no reason I can't crawl a modest distance out of my shell. I've skipped out on most of the old entertaining habits for reasons unknown and kept but a couple. Maybe a couple's enough.
Later still. A brief nap, some work on some old film scans found on the backup hard drive (we are still working on cataloging these) and now it's five o'clock. I've gone over what I'd written above and found some of it incomprehensible, so some work on it. I'm overstating it, but not by much. But that takes us back to the funky feeling thing, even I'm tired of it.
Anyway, we'll do some guitar and see what's on in the way of Scandinavian police procedurals at six. I'm pretty sure it's actually an Italian father someone or other amateur detective who's busy protecting his cute and predictable flock, much too saccharine for me to watch, so we'll get along with doing something else. And maybe do some more editing of this undying prose, assuming it will make any difference, about which I wonder.
Evening. No television worth watching, no Netflix movies in the hopper, to bed before ten.