We Can Manage
Monday. To bed early enough, up an hour after the alarm remembering, as I was setting out for breakfast, the meters weren't running this week (I'd better reconfirm that.) and all was well with the world. Foggy and overcast, the world, they're saying partly cloudy with a high of sixty-four, but it's close to eleven, cold and it doesn't look like it's going to clear.
Dropped the boxed up camera off at the local UPS store, my sister should receive it Wednesday or Thursday, and so that task is done. Drop off the final paperwork on the living trust and will and we're finished, this living trust and will thing having been delayed since the beginning of time. An indicator yours truly is not facing up to his duties for reasons obvious and unknown. We'll just say it's the fuzzy head and once again kick any realization about it on down the road.
Guitar lesson tomorrow, so a good wrap up practice session today is in order. I keep saying it: I'm better, but not there yet, something that's been said, I would guess, by every guitar player, beginner or master, since time began. Guitar time. It's the same except for the chords.
Later. A walk at noon over to Lakeshore to the bagel shop to see if they didn't have that yogurt mix in a cup in stock and they did, eating two of them with a cup of coffee out at a sidewalk table. The head is screwed up, but what the hell, a decent walk with the sun finally arriving and one or two attractive looking women passing by on the sidewalks.
Back to take a good hour's nap, up now feeling better. Reviewed the living trust, did the final entries, but we'll wait to deliver it until morning. I told you how this has been going, tomorrow will be fine.
An email out of the blue from a Frenchman who'd seen the pictures of Philippa Carlile on the Rip Off Press section of artandlife who explained he'd been a friend who'd worked with her during the late seventies and wondered if I happened to know where she was. I wrote a response to tell him she'd passed away in 1996 and that I'd only learned of the fact in this last year. Hard email to write, makes me realize I've not processed her leaving yet, probably never will.
Later still. Spaghetti with red clam sauce for dinner. Hungry for a change. Good. Three pounds under the target weight this morning, won't be that much tomorrow. Another nap after on another odd afternoon.
Evening. Nothing on television. There's a new Korean soap that started on Monday and Tuesdays nights recently that's turning out to be not totally terrible. I've said this with others and ended up following it, first in bits and pieces and then, toward the end, every episode. This one seems to be following a similar path.
Still, it does have the awkward mix of the childish with the interesting/serious in what I'm guessing are different cultural preferences, but evidently with time these boundaries between the two dissolve and it can wrap you right in. Or something like that. Otherwise to bed early, if we can manage.