In Many Ways
Friday. To bed well before ten, up after turning off the alarm and sleeping in until eight. Up in the sense of getting out of bed, doing the usual preparations to head out, but this time packing up the guitar and the music into the car and driving off to breakfast, finding a parking space near my teacher's house where I might usually park and then walking down the hill to the usual place. Reminds me of my juggling on Tuesday when I slept in late and then had breakfast after my haircut.
Convenient, don't you think?
Anyway, home from the lesson, feeling reasonably good about it. We're moving on to new material, although I'm still working on Harrison's Something. Getting there, but one step at a time. One slow step at a time. No complaints.
The day is nice (cool, this morning, but a high in the seventies they say), I'm sitting here feeling a little hungry (it's close to noon, although I didn't eat breakfast all that long ago) and I suspect I'll work on yesterday's pictures for a while before heading out. Or taking a nap and then heading out. I was a little spaced at the lesson, I'm still a little spaced now.
Later. I'll write this off as one of those tired without being physically tired days or, maybe better, tired without necessarily being able to sleep. A slow, take your time, sit by the lake kind of a day where you have lunch out on the patio at the usual place, but then wait and take the bus the half mile or so home because you really didn't want to walk.
I continue to notice the nose being stuffed up in the mornings, finally clearing toward the early afternoon. If they're caused by allergies, well, maybe allergies are a factor in this fuzziness. And, if I'm suffering allergies without a cat in the house, maybe they're not being caused by a cat. I would like to have another cat.
We'll think again about testing the proposition by contacting the local cat house (excuse, me: animal shelter) and see if we can't get one in for a month through their temporary foster home program. As long as they don't say the cat goes into the “didn't make it bin”, too bad about that, should it turn out they really do cause an allergic reaction and I'd need to return her back. I'm not returning any cats of mine to the “didn't make it bin” without a fight.
Otherwise, no complaints. Until maybe later.
Evening. A bunch of time working on the photographs, but they're finished and up on HereInOakland and artandlife. Another Italian police procedural at six, one that's marginal, but what the hell, a little guitar takes some of the sting out of it. If I'd been playing along on the guitar. I was, but not enough.
Another day noting little things missed, forgotten where they've not been forgotten in the past. Yesterday, for example, asking whether or not I'd taken the afternoon meds twice. I might. Not the end of the world, but not something you want to do, or miss. So what the hell? I've put them into the little plastic day of the week containers, it will save me a lot of time in taking them out of their bottles one pill at a time in the mornings as a plus. And I won't forget.
Still, makes you think. Just a long day of a kind I've seen now and again (and commented upon) in the past? Three days at a time, just tired and don't want to do anything requiring effort? Well, OK, I can live with that. Messes up the guitar playing, I've noticed, spacing out in the middle of a riff (what is it again that comes next?). Sounds worse than it is, but still, we'll make whatever adjustments.
Doesn't seem to affect the photographs, but that could be me not noticing or not correlating an off picture day with a off head. Hell, in many ways an advantage, I'd think.