The Real List
Tuesday. Early to bed last night, up with the alarm. I awoke a couple of times to turn over and relieve an aching side, but otherwise a good night's sleep. I think. At least the day has started well with the papers and breakfast, home now to finish up yesterday's entry and go through the usual gamut of news sites, columnists and ragtag bloggers for takes on the weather and their political views.
A very light, more like mist than rain, this morning, something of a surprise, although it was overcast and cold enough yesterday for a proper head's up. I'll get out eventually this morning unless is gets worse, the Californian in me whispering it won't get worse, it never gets worse until it does. We are firm in our outlook and direction, we are, here on a hill overlooking (if I lived but one floor up) Dr. Merritt's lake.
There's was a Dr. Merritt who gave his name to the lake?
I had no damned idea, it just came out. Looking it up just now, though, there was a Samuel Merritt, a doctor, an early (elected in 1867) mayor of Oakland, for whom it was named. How long have I lived here now without knowing that? Dr. Samuel Merritt, six foot three, three hundred and forty pounds?
Later. Ah, well. A good night's sleep last night? I wonder. Something like three hours lying down just now, a good two hours of it sleeping, up at two in the afternoon. Where'd that come from? It started with one of those dry mouth odd feeling sort of a things I'd had a brief experience with last night (best I hadn't had anything to drink or the drink would have taken the blame). But nap I did.
A walk over to the morning café for a grilled cheese sandwich, ice cream (Strawberry, I like their Strawberry) and lemonade, a walk then back to the apartment stopping to take but one thoroughly ordinary picture I've taken so many times before. Nothing wrong with it, it's just you get an awful lot of pictures that look almost exactly alike.
Back now to play guitar. We'll get the practicing in and see how the lesson goes Thursday. If we're not ready this week, we'll never be ready, and it will indeed take ten years to achieve rock and roll superstardom rather than the usual six months. Seven months if things come up.
Evening. So, good news and bad news: The bad news is another “almost” ocular migraine, the good news is I'm pretty sure it was brought on by eating cheese. A bagel with cream cheese this morning, making me wonder about that whiff of an ocular thing as I was lying down for the long nap earlier this morning, and then, that grilled cheese (if you can call American cheese, cheese) for lunch.
Sounds good, anyway, cheese is one of the big bad kickers causing ocular migraines and I've had this feeling, even after those times I've had sushi and sake (there's a spicy cheese sauce served over their spicy mussels) I've wondered if the sauce hadn't been one of the culprits. They leave an aftertaste, a feeling and an aftertaste, that connects to the ocular thing.
They are somewhat spectacular, even what I'm calling an “almost” event, just some of the symptoms, not all of the symptoms, but spectacular none the less. In this case I got up, having been lying down for the last hour, when the radio program I was listening to, the people who were talking, stopped making sense. A walk to the computer. My password? What portal was this I was entering again? Password? Which password? On what world? When?
A walk over to turn on the television set, it was just after six, a Maigret this evening, so I sat down and watched, but only after staring at the two remotes required to turn it on, confusing them for more than a moment with the computer and the password it required. I said they were strange and they are indeed most strange. And disconcerting.
So now what?
Catch up on the guitar, we did get some practicing in earlier, and get to bed at a decent hour. I very rarely have a bagel with cream cheese with breakfast, so no great loss. Grilled cheese for lunch? Well, there's a long list of foods I once liked that I don't like anymore, just another (dozen or so) are now permanently on the list. The real list.