Curious To Know
Sunday. To bed at nine-thirty, awake at eight-thirty, to breakfast and back around eleven. A good night's sleep? A long night's sleep, anyway. Maybe that's now the norm. One or two days of sleep, one or two or three days of less sleep, no difference between them, mostly up and running with a little fog in between.
Nobody understands what that means.
Welcome to the fog in between.
Later. Somewhat slow, the day, but over to the lake with a long lens thinking maybe I'd find the bird I'd included with yesterday's entry and get a good enough shot to identify him. And ran into the bird at the same place I'd found him yesterday. I believe it's a Eared Grebe in winter non-mating season plumage, but what do I know? I look at the pictures in the bird spotter's guide and make guesses.
Still hungry after a late, relatively large, breakfast so I'll undoubtedly spend another hour going over various ideas of where to go and what to get for lunch. An idiot's lament for one who's neither lame or broke. Fuzzy headed maybe, no way around not admitting to that, but not lame or broke. Yet.
It's seventy degrees outside, the kind of day that lends to making snarky remarks to friends who live in colder climates. On Facebook. I was good. I wrote, but didn't post. Acting the idiot doesn't mean I like acting the idiot once the head has cleared and there's a good day ahead.
Later still. A slow afternoon, a slow day, what can I say? Finally decided on spaghetti with clam sauce in the mid-afternoon to take care of the hunger problem. I'm hoping red clam sauce doesn't turn out to be mercury laden or Fukushima irradiated in the future, this focus of mine on eating but a few foods may prove ill advised. Best to go back to the ice cream, maybe. Take no chances.
The guitar is still sitting (both guitars are still sitting) in its/their cradle, we need to get together before the day is done. I say I'm tight with this week's lesson and I believe I am, but how many times have I said this and then discovered lapses? Issues? Ill-executed strums?
It's four, having spent the last hour lying on the bed and reading the New York Times magazine devoted to reminisces about people who passed on in 2013. Most of them well known, some less well known, it was interesting to see those that caught my interest and I picked them out to read. A quick estimate of the number who were born after I was born. Not a large percentage, but best to get what needs to be done in the next decade if there are things that are left to be done.
Evening. Nothing on televison, nothing on Netflix I was willing to endure at least for the evening and so to bed just after eight. Eight. No desire to fire up the tablet, nothing on the radio on Sunday evenings and so to sleep early. I'll be curious to know when.