On The Guitar
Monday. To bed just after ten to get up at six with the alarm to again head out for breakfast on an overcast, but not rainy morning, the temperature (as always) in the fifties. Feel pretty good.
Which lead to thoughts I should see if I couldn't better focus on the one or two projects I've been pursuing, maybe sit down and ratchet up the effort and quality, get back to doing things I've been able to do in the past without a second thought, but have stopped doing in these last few years due to, well, something. Blame it on age, blame it on pains from an old long ago operation, stop thinking in circles and get back to where we once belonged. Hup.
Such thoughts soon pass, of course, no need to be concerned, but when the attitude is good and the energy is good the mind tends to wander.
Just, you know, I sit here and scribble, babble and only occasionally put a decent sentence together. If the energy and clarity are there, why not buckle down and focus, write something now and again that won't make me wince later. If I have the faculties to know the difference later.
All this due to retirement, checking out of the real world?
Still the real world, just a different real world. There is still fun to be had, I just need to remember it.
Later. More mist than rain when I headed out the door in the late morning to walk by the apartment construction site - nothing happening there - and so on to the lake where I found a few of the usual crew out running. A picture or two and that was about it.
This is the first rain since the Gold Rush and so the underground streams that empty into the estuary have been flushing every kind of plastic bottle, jar and wrap they've been accumulating while it's been dry. This will be cleaned up, but it underlines the reasons why we have something called the Great Pacific Garbage Patch whirling away in the central north Pacific.
It's got a way to sail yet before it gets there.
It evidently doesn't mind taking its time.
Another walk in the early afternoon to pick up a steak sandwich to bring home for lunch, hungry, took no more than an hour to convince myself what I was willing to eat. Similarly with dinner. A walk (now with sun) in the late afternoon for an ice cream cone. For dinner. No regrets. I've had enough spaghetti for the week.
Evening. A call from the young woman driver's father to say they were contacting their insurance company over Saturday's accident, their local Honda body shop estimating $900 in damages. I provided them the necessary information but mentioned I believed she'd tapped me, I hadn't gone out of my lane and tapped her, but I suspect it will be up to the insurance companies to sort it out.
Interesting to remember what happened. Did I, in fact, move out of my lane? I don't believe I did as I've gone through this intersection many times and have learned to pay attention to the curving lanes as other cars often don't notice them right away and drift over the line. Of course I couldn't see what she saw or thinks she saw as I was hit from behind. (Oddly there's no damage at all to the back of my car, perhaps just the slightest scrape.) So we're in for an unsettling exchange.
Two new continuing episodes of Scott & Bailey starting at nine, so we'll be up late. No way around it. For all the various programs I “sort of like” and “kind of like”, this is one I seem to actually like on Monday nights. At least it gives me more time on the guitar.