Crossed My Trail
Saturday. To bed just after nine and awake without the alarm before six. Thought about turning over and going back to sleep, turned over and then wasn't able to go back to sleep. We said we were going to get up only when we were ready to get up (hup!) and not set the alarm. Well, thus it has gone, early to bed and yet up with the dawn.
Off to breakfast and back on a bright sunny morning, they're saying it's going to be really warm and for once I'm willing to believe them. The weekend. A new month. We'll see if this day goes as recent days have gone. Hope not. Hope for the best. Knock on wood (make an offering to local forest fauns, wood sprites and lake trolls - from whatever/whomever you might conceivably garner help).
Later. A walk over to the lake to do the usual sit on a bench by the white pergola for a while before returning to the apartment. Feel pretty good though, the head clear, none of the long list of ailments I've cataloged for the week. OK. We've started the morning as we always start the mornings, but without the usual fog. What's to come now as we approach a Saturday afternoon with the head screwed on?
Later still. A quick lie down for a while on the bed before walking over through the farmers market and then on to the usual place for ice cream and lemonade out under a patio umbrella, this time in a t-shirt, the temperature up. Nice day, crowds of people everywhere, but not a single picture. Well, one, as I was sitting briefly on a bench by the lake, pointing the camera and pushing the shutter. Didn't bother to download it to the computer.
So it's now half past twelve, the afternoon, nothing to entice me downtown, although I did think about it, may well think about it again later. More than once. We'll try some guitar, try another nap. The head is still solid, there's still a day ahead.
Even later still. OK, clear headed, sinuses behaving nicely, happily working on some photographs in Photoshop making changes and upgrades on the web. Just like that. Have no hopes it will last, but life is strange here with Rocky R. in the Black Mining Hills of Oakland.
I seem to recall it was the “black hills of South Dakota”.
You remember it your way, I'll remember it mine.
Evening. A good day, all day, hey. Maybe we'll have them on days again sometimes. Almost went out for pizza, something my stomach hasn't been able to consider for some time. I didn't. Thinking about it wasn't enough to make it happen, but nice to see the thought could arise.
Nothing on television, no more House evidently, although there's only so much House a man can suffer. Psychoanalysis on the cheap perhaps?
So to bed early again, see if there's a possibility of two of these better than I remember days in a row.
You've probably jinxed any chance by saying that.
I ain't superstitious, but a black cat crossed my trail. (An opaque reference to our guitar.)
I suspect your “clear headed day” ended with that.