Day Follows Day
Thursday. Beautiful weather today, too bad I had to spend most of it inside. A deadline approaching at work, a project that involves three thousand company computers that needs to go well, which means I need to do well, which means, twenty-two days until retirement or no, I'm going to have to do what's necessary to make it come off. Which means working at least one day over the weekend. Which, given the fact I've got twenty-two days until retirement, is a “so what?” Twenty-two days and I'm done. Don't sweat it, I can do twenty-two days standing on my head. Who cares whether I work an extra hour or an extra day or goof off for a week? It's over, get on with it.
Friday. Pay no attention to yesterday's entry. Work this weekend? This “three weeks before retirement” business obviously has hallucinatory aspects that cloud one's judgement; best to climb into bed, pull up the covers and take a nap. When I get home from the office. Tired today, the head not great. Another session with the medicos next week.
Still, a weekend ahead as there is always a weekend ahead on each and every Friday and I repeat, repeat, repeat how wonderful that seems to be. A cup or two of sake this evening (we are now settled in, having listened to the News Hour on Public Television). Is this good? The sake fills in the cracks around the aching head. Perhaps I will retire to bed early and see if I can't continue with one of the novels that sit beside my bed. To bed, perchance to sleep. Deedle-dee-deep. Life is complex and more than a little weird as day follows day, here in Oakland.