Guitar And Sleep
Monday. To bed early to reread an article in the Atlantic after hearing an hour's interview with the author on the radio, Promises, Promises: Can Obama redeem his environmental failures by Mark Hertzgaard. Depressing damned thing if you at all worry about climate change.
Anyway, to bed, to sleep at what was still a reasonable hour, the first day I hadn't taken any of the pain pills, to get up with the stomach aching more than it's been, tired and dragging. Go figure. That article last night must have been more depressing than I'd imagined.
Off to breakfast and back, still dragging, to quickly finish yesterday's entry and go to bed to take a nap. A good hour's plus sleep, up now feeling better. Still a little tired, but the kind you throw off after say half an hour, the stomach better (we popped a pain pill before the nap) and letting the day come together. We'll soon enough see how things arrange themselves and whether we'll be at all ambitious about getting out and taking pictures.
Later. A walk to the morning café at noon for lunch. Hungry, no desire to head downtown, and so over by the construction site to see they're continuing to erect forms and rebar for the soon to be coming cement walls. One or two pictures to mark their progress. Not sure how well I'll be able to document the construction once they become hidden up on and beyond the second floor.
On to lunch: a grilled cheese sandwich, ice cream and lemonade. Not sure this was the best combination for the condition of my stomach, but it was what the mind if not the body wanted, no other options.
Walking home I was, for some reason, carrying the camera over the shoulder instead of holding it in hand straps around the wrist and when I came up upon this father and son, the father demonstrating to his son how to balance the hockey stick on his nose (which he did easily and expertly, I might add), the camera wasn't ready to take a picture and I clumsily bungled the shot, taking the picture after he'd removed it from his nose, the camera skewed in my haste to shoot. I really didn't get the image in the viewfinder, just gestured in the direction as I was raising the camera to my eye and shot. Ah, well.
Home to lie down and experiment with another nap. A slow day, a slow afternoon, the stomach uneasy and queasy. The operation? The food I've been eating? The phase of the moon? All of the above? Sure. We're babbling, making lists, just adding any old thing we can think of as we write (he said).
This has indeed devolved into babble again.
One day we may have to appropriately rename this journal, apersonalbabble.com (if it isn't already taken).
Evening. Nothing on television, which is good as it means we'll get to bed early. No need to mess with the sleep after last night. Otherwise guitar, more guitar and sleep.