Monday. A spacey morning so far this morning. I got to sleep fairly early, before nine, awoke to semi-consciousness for about an hour at three and then got up with the alarm at the new time of six-forty rather than six, again, a bit spacey in that I managed to forget a couple of simple steps in my routine. Nothing important, but it made “spacey” the accurate state.
A walk then to the morning restaurant, the day overcast, the dust on the unfinished roadway less than pleasant. I wished I'd taken pictures on the way to breakfast before they'd watered down the street rather than as I was walking back. Still, a short decent walk, no complaints, although the nose and sinuses were acting up I suspect from the dust. Back to edit yesterdays trash (a bit grumpy at the moment) before posting it at ten. The new schedule from here on out I suspect.
Again, lots of clouds up there, it could rain, but to bed for a bit, see if we can't sleep, see if these sinuses won't clear themselves up. Hup!
Later. It's two o'clock in the afternoon and the sinuses are starting to feel better, better in the sense of no longer dominating the day as they've been doing since I got up. So good - hup! - and all that.
Earlier it was overcast and so a sweater and a reasonably heavy coat to take the bus to the ATM on Broadway before noon, a walk then to the City Center for a bun and coffee, the sun finally showing between the clouds, but the air cool enough to forestall any overheating in the sweater and jacket. So far, so good, the sinuses feeling better for being outside and probably for the pain meds I'd taken before leaving. I'm never sure, but I think my decision is they help.
Walking back along Broadway sitting at a table in Latham Square to while away time before the next bus was due to arrive, thinking I'd catch it at Grand and Webster as I've done in the past. As I was thinking this, a woman probably in her fifties sitting not far away at another Latham Square table, got up and, looking in my direction, suddenly started speaking as if she were addressing a crowd.
She'd looked a little stern, but otherwise no different than anyone else in the area. I was the only person sitting in listening distance. She was speaking clearly enough, but not clearly enough to catch every word for my particular somewhat diminished ability to distinguish. Set off because I had the camera in my lap? I wonder, as when she'd left to cross Broadway, she addressed another person in the same manner and his hands were empty.
Ah well. I didn't take her picture, no need to get her any more excited than she was (a shabby excuse for a so called street photographer), but headed on up Broadway to wait for the bus at Grand. Got off a stop early and walked to the apartment house construction area to take the daily pictures, none of them particularly different from any I've taken in the past except, perhaps, for the one along the Bellevue side with a very dry discarded Christmas tree lying the distance. How long since Christmas? In March? Hope no one thinks to light a match.
Home to work on the apartment house picture web site when the mouth began to get dry, what I've been calling “dry”, but also feels as if it's going numb with a strange taste inside. Working in Lightroom and Photoshop on some of January's apartment house construction site pictures, I realized I was confused and losing track of what I was doing. Stopped, went to the bedroom, lied down on the bed and waited for something like half an hour for the world to reassemble. The same as yesterday's trip.
Later still. A half hour lying down before getting up again to continue with the apartment house pictures, taking a break to prepare pasta and red clam sauce for dinner, returning to start on the journal section above, Democracy Now playing as usual on television in the background. When the mouth went dry again. Two in one day with but a two hour lapse between.
Evening. In bed to get the head back together (it again took about thirty minutes) watching various things on the tablet. Where the mouth became dry and the brain became confused as it was writing, it wasn't so confused that it couldn't follow a simple story line.
Up to wrestle with this and then, I have no doubt, go over it in fine detail (what I now humorously call fine detail) again in the morning.