Thursday. Lights out again at ten, but a good night's sleep, getting up but once and awakening at six-thirty. Still too early, but better than six or even sooner was the thinking, whatever thinking one does this early in the morning.
Clear sky and so a walk to breakfast, the workers at the apartment house construction site beginning to pour cement at the entrance to the building opposite my street. They may actually finish this whole thing by the end of the month.
Sun now, no idea what to do or where to go later today, but we've been thinking about this walking/exercise bit and how it relates, not so much to growing older, as growing older and still being able to do enough stuff to keep all of it interesting.
I have an aunt who's one hundred and three who's in good health (whatever good health may be at one hundred and three), who's been very good about swimming most days of her life and otherwise staying in good physical condition. I'm not thinking of living until a hundred, the younger me would have been surprised to see me still around right now, but I would like to keep shooting pictures for whatever time may be remaining. Just some thoughts about more walking and such, nothing yet that might lead to action.
Somehow that doesn't surprise.
We live an improbable existence.
Later. Sunny, noon, and so out the door to, well, walk over to the burger drive-in and pick up another grilled chicken sandwich, taking a picture of the progress they've made since earlier this morning laying cement. No thought of taking a longer walk. Back with the sandwich to listen to the news and then lie down to watch a CBS program on the tablet that first played last night on television at ten. I'm curious to see if I skip Elementary later this evening at ten and then watch it tomorrow on the tablet. In comfort. In bed.
Evening. A couple of new magazines arrived this afternoon and so an hour or so reading them on the bed before getting up to listen to Democracy Now play in the background as I futzed with stuff on the computer. Thought about watching Foyle's War at eight, but opted for Charlie Rose and his first two interviewees, as I'd seen this episode of Mr. Foyle's before.
And you stayed up to watch Elementary on the tablet?
That's the way it worked out. Wide awake at nine forty-five and so went on to watch tonight's implausible story line roll itself out until eleven with obvious interest. Implausible story lines don't seem to matter much in determining what keeps you watching. Interesting question: what is it that makes a program interesting for any particular one person and what is it that puts him off? And does it require a psychiatrist or a group of psychiatrists to work it all out?
Are we drifting?
It's eleven o'clock. How could we not?