Tuesday. To bed before ten, but reading an article on Snowden in the new Vanity Fair until well after ten, to sleep then whenever. Up half an hour after the alarm to then head out to breakfast and feed the meter to allow time to finish the papers. Feel pretty good, perhaps not as supercharged as I did yesterday pretty much throughout the day, but the day has only started. My guitar lesson later this afternoon.
Are you ready?
Yeah. Not so bad. Decent progress on the chord changes we've been repeating and repeating and repeating.
Later. A faster than usual run through the various news blogs, finishing up sooner than usual, a walk then out the door to note the new piece of (drilling?) equipment positioned opposite my street on the construction site, a walk then on along the lake to the ice cream shop on Lakeshore. Nice sunny morning, not overly warm, a light jacket over a long sleeved shirt. A walk then back to the apartment, one last picture of the construction site just because.
And then to lie down feeling tired. The sinuses/upper palate is acting up a bit. Not over the top, but some thought of taking the second dose of pain meds a little earlier than I normally would. No sleep, but up now to go through the guitar lesson before we set out for the lesson.
T-shirt weather now, we'll consider lunch at Genji's if the appetite picks up. It will.
Later still. Waited for the one-thirty bus, which didn't come. OK, the reason I take the one-thirty is that I can take the two o'clock bus if it doesn't come, so a walk down two stops to Perkins to wait on the two o'clock bus taking more pictures along the way.
The two o'clock bus didn't come, but the backup bus that arrives at this stop ten minutes later did come and I made my lesson with five minutes to spare. Frustrating and a little tiring carrying the guitar in its case over the shoulder.
A decent lesson, progress I think, we'll do better with the same material next week, the instructor not overly upset with my performance. At least he didn't let it show or I made it a point not to notice.
He really is good with the encouragement/patience bit.
I know, I know. Just, you know, babbling.
Back home to again attempt a nap and then (what else?) getting up to watch more episodes of House with a little guitar thrown in.
Evening. More guitar, avoidance of most everything on television, more guitar and now that it's nine I think it's time for bed. I believe I'm close to a House overdose, a point I reached when I first discovered the program running three or four episodes in a row once a week on television. Probably for the best. I don't much like the characters, your basic clusterfuck clash of steroid addled egos, or is that one of the reasons for my apparent attractions?