It Goes Tomorrow
Thursday. So much for dodging the Windows virus bullet at the office, a full twelve hours today putting out fires, a day I'd planned to leave early for a doctor's appointment, but ended up cancelling the appointment and staying late. This MSBlaster worm - virus thing. Many hours of unexpected consequences. Hi, ho. Felt pretty good for all that, I'll get the planned blood test and work like crazy tomorrow and kick back over the weekend. Take time to do nothing, one thinks, I thinks, and see if this "feeling better" attitude I've been having lasts. You're supposed to lose this level of naivete as you reach my age. I've read that. Doesn't matter.
The bet around here is you won't find what you want to do in life before you expire.
Retire or expire? And which will come first? I am doing what I want, I'm swimming the mystic sea in exactly the right direction, I'm just, you know, taking my time. I like to carp. The Internet is the perfect carping mechanism, the perfect place to find (old) fools online. Fool-ishness beyond measure. I'll leave this now and start again tomorrow.
Friday. Another longish day, but - dare I say it? - the head is clear, the muscles quiet and I'm wondering how the weekend will wend. Enough energy for ambition? Enough energy to go out and shoot pictures, any pictures? There's an oingo-boingo quality in this, the mind is skipping along, but the body for the first time in a long time seems to be coming together; the ears ringing, but so what, that was never really the problem; the vertigo less, the aches and pains receding; the body, you know, sort of functioning again. It's good to have your body functioning again, not good when you notice it's failing.
Of course if the blood test I had this morning comes back bad, all of this is whistling Dixie. The PSA test, the test that detects signs of prostate cancer. No good to find signs of prostate cancer when you don't have a prostate anymore. It means, well, it means things that make you wince when you read them in a newspaper: Mr. A, formerly a big do-wah in the music business and Mr. B, an even bigger do-wah in the cement trade went down today after a long bout. Or a short bout. With prostate, it's a short bout and you're out. So you pay attention.
And you're telling us you're feeling better?
Much better than I have been feeling, let me tell you. Really. It's been an almost brutal week, but brutal in the normal day in and day out sense of long hours and nasty problems. Underneath it all I can tell I'm doing OK, a pick me up, believe me, after how it went while I was on vacation. Nice company and all that, but not good to be wondering if this was the last chapter. You know, the one where you kiss your wife and your kids in a quiet fade, strings swelling as you watch the sun go orange through the venitian blinds; Lassie, the wonder dog, crying, head buried in her pillow?
There is such a thing as too far, you know.
Nice day today. I understand the lights went out on the East Coast. Just the right temperature here, no need for an air conditioner. The carping? Well, the carping is a kind of writing exercise, a way to make progress when you're only idling your engine. I'll be curious to see how it goes tomorrow. I'm always curious to see how it goes tomorrow.