Find The Something
Wednesday. To bed late, but reasonably quickly to sleep, awake two minutes before the alarm was due to go off, although I dawdled a bit in getting up and going. Felt fine on another clear, sunny day: no complaints.
Off to Palo Alto in about fifteen minutes to pick up that Protime testing device and be instructed on how to use it. No more monthly trips to the hospital lab to have blood drawn. A finger prick once a week now (forever) to measure it at home. We'll see how it turns out. Sounds good so far, but you never know until you've tried it.
Are we suspicious?
We are wary. Old and wary.
Later. An easy enough trip down and back, this little Protime reader quite a piece of electronic gear. Portents of many things to come, I suspect. Anyway, again, a nice ride arriving half an hour early, a cup of coffee at the coffee shop in their building, the nurse taking me right away when I entered the office, so no waiting for my appointment time to arrive.
Now home in the late afternoon, the attitude good, lunch on the horizon. And maybe a picture or two. And maybe move that book case to make room for that set of shelves I assembled yesterday, you can tell the mood is good when I start thinking about doing things like that.
I'd mentioned I'd ordered three frame kits for 11"x14" prints a week ago and they arrived late yesterday. I was wondering about them, no word from the company, no email sent to say they'd received the order, no email sent to say they'd been shipped, no indication at all other than the charge that appeared immediately on my credit card. The last order I'd placed had taken months, no response to my queries, although earlier orders for frame kits and such had come without a problem.
Anyway, they arrived and I framed the two prints I'd prepared, now to hang them somewhere in the apartment. Where there's room. Room after taking other things down. I don't want them to be too conspicuous, although their size doesn't make that easy. They are two women who were important to me, but again, I don't want to have it look as if I'm obsessing over them. I'd emphasize I'm not, although these framed prints may prove me a liar.
Later still. A walk by the lake, as opposed to along the lake, on to the morning café for half an egg salad sandwich, ice cream and coffee, sitting out in the sun for a half an hour watching the pedestrians pass on by. My, my.
Back now to think about those two framed photographs (where should they go?) and moving that bookcase. Can I move it far enough to slip these new shelves in between them or are they too large and I have indeed screwed the pooch? We shall know soon enough, I suspect, although not necessarily by evening. Give ourself leeway here knowing our history.
Evening. One of the things I usually buy is frozen corn (as well as others) and I'll pour out a cup in the evenings, heat it in the microwave (three minutes on high) and, well, eat it. Monsanto gene diced or not, they're counted as vegetables.
This evening I did exactly that, no big deal, frozen corn, nothing else added, and almost immediately had the most intense “ocular incident” I've ever experienced. It didn't last all that long, somewhat less than an hour, they never do, but it was a walk way over the edge and into some combination of Oz and Wonderland.
The first cup from a frozen bag of a brand I haven't had before, that I'd bought recently at the supermarket, the size larger and the price lower than I expected. What might have been in it? If I could find out I might then know what to avoid it in the future.
Otherwise, once reality had returned, I watched the Korean spy series that's been running on Wednesday and Thursday nights, the last half of this one, anyway, during its first half I was somewhere else entirely, and I'll probably stay up long enough to check out another hopeless Korean soap that finishes at nine. But then to bed. No more corn. Believe me. Nada. None. Let's hope, when I go over the list of ingredients tomorrow, I find the something that may have caused it.
Don't bet on it.