Tuesday. To bed at eleven, up with the alarm at ten after six, off to breakfast to have the waffle with fruit and coffee for breakfast, Mr. S and his son dropping by near eight to split an order of pancakes with bananas and coffee for breakfast between them on their way to start their day. A good beginning, in other words, whether I got enough sleep last night or not. (And probably not.)
For some reason I put the laundry in the wash first thing when I got home, the last two loads are finishing up in the drier as I write. I probably had another week or so to go before I needed to think about laundry, but doing it sooner makes it easier, doesn't take it so long to dry. Four loads, but two regular and two light, makes for a more sane experience, makes the time pass more quickly, makes the task even less a task. Or something like that. I'm doing it. I'm surprised.
OK, the laundry done, hung and folded, the sky still overcast. A walk is in order before preparing for the guitar lesson later this afternoon. I say this every Tuesday with every lesson and follow through less than half the time.
Later. Not particularly tired and so a walk over to the lake rather than a nap. A number of geese were hanging out by the old (no longer functioning) fountain by the white column pergola and I took a couple of snapshots as they were landing and taking off. Just walked right on by - snap! snap! - and then on to the morning café where I had a BLT, a small portion of potato salad and lemonade. I was hungry after my usual light breakfast.
It must be as the waffle and the fruit have been leaving me feeling hungry these recent late mornings. I have no idea about food and diet anymore other than I'm holding to my weight.
It's now one, so we'll pick up the guitar and go through the assigned song two or three times just to be sure we've gotten it locked.
Later still. A bus downtown carrying the camera along with the guitar this time. I'd left the camera behind last week but today felt managing it with the guitar would be no big deal. A little cumbersome, but we're not talking about any real walking required, just a short distance to the bus and then a short distance to the lesson when we arrive.
And it went well. I think I even surprised my teacher. Barre chords, though. I haven't kept up the callouses, not enough barre chording when working on other things, so I've started doing a set of barre chord scales. Damned ring finger hurts and it will take more than another week to toughen it back up. Hup!
No ill effects from the bacon in the BLT, at least not yet. No, I have no idea why I ordered a BLT as I'd been turning over safer options on the walk to the restaurant: what to order that would not come back to haunt me during the lesson? Yet “BLT”, I was what I said. Clearly. Firmly. Without blinking.
I should be tired after getting to bed at eleven last night (enjoyed Scott & Bailey, though, no regrets about that), but so far no naps. To bed early? Television? Anything? On a Tuesday?
Evening. Stayed up to watch The Poisoner's Handbook on PBS at eight, a program about the beginnings of forensic science in the early 20th Century, New York City's move from political hack appointed coroners to a properly staffed forensics section. Evidently put a crimp on the ability of the politically connected to poison whom they would.
I made it through about the first twenty minutes before going to bed, I did. We'll make up for last night tonight, we will.