Friday. Twelve hours on the road is too many hours on the road. Q.E.D.
Saturday. Arrived last night at nine with the head in a bubble, Ms. Emmy, for some reason, in a pretty good mood. She finally fell into her riding in a car routine: she sits on my lap dozing while I'm driving, looking up now and again to confirm the world is whizzing by, a retreat to the back seat when I stop and get out of the car to stretch my legs. I put her in the carrier when we'd parked in the building basement and she travelled upstairs without a peep as if she knew where we were, where we were going and she approved. Strange. I emphasize I don't want to do any more marathon driving sessions and write it here with the understanding there's small chance I'll remember. I really was a zombie when I got in last night - a ding bat gravel hitting the metal roof zombie, no doubt about it - got into bed, got a good night's sleep, took a long hot bath this morning, ate breakfast at the usual café.
It started raining mid to late morning and it's raining now that we're in the middle of the afternoon. I've just returned from Beverages and More with a bottle of sake, some cheese and crackers, none of which are listed in my family practitioner's recommended will allow you to survive until tomorrow food groups. Well, we all have our internal mechanism that calculates where we stand. I'm OK with the sake, cheese and crackers because I've gone so long I can't remember how many seconds I need to nuke the sake to bring it up to temperature, something I don't usually have to think about. That means it's been long enough.
I made a list early this week of things to accomplish when I got back to Oakland. I haven't done shit since I retired (other than to make a couple of lists), maybe with this one I've turned the corner. Yes it's raining, yes I'm holed up in the apartment, but I'm puttering around doing this and that to good effect. Now, is this crap (“life has turned the corner, I've scrubbed out the tub”) a product of the alcohol? Or a product of the combination of alcohol, cheese and crackers? It's difficult to differentiate when you have to throw the I've become older than the hills factor into the mix. I've had one flask, the equivalent of a glass of wine. Is that enough to do this mind numbing New Year's resolutions crap? And the cheese and crackers? The cheese is gone (half a pound, half a pound, half a pound onward!) as are half the crackers (a box of Carr's Table Water Crackers, net weight 4 1/4 ounces). Are they fatal when mixed? The thought crosses the mind.
Many things cross the minds of many, particularly when they're in the bath. It doesn't mean they have to write them down.
Yes I do! That's the problem!