Monday. In the middle of the inning where the Giants scored their second group of runs last night I found myself in the middle of another ocular migraine, clicking the channel changer through the stations not quite aware of where I was or what I was watching. Sounds disconcerting, and it is, but it only lasts for something like ten minutes, at least the really out there on the fringe part, and so back to reality - a kind of reality where you can tell you're damaged, but not irrational - and right to bed.
No better, no worse than others, but this marks how many in the last few months? More than I've been having, not so many as to freak. Just to sit and consider. Not freak. Again, a doctor's appointment on Thursday, we'll go over it then.
Up with the alarm with no problem, off to breakfast on another clear morning. The car appointment at the Honda dealer at eight-thirty and so a drive to the dealer instead of home, the car will be ready for pick up after one.
One or two pictures in the early morning light along the construction site as I was walking home (no buses and so a forty-five minute walk - felt good, we've gotten our walk out of the way for the day), the workers putting up both fence and canvas along the inner walls where I've been taking pictures since the street side was sealed off. So we're maybe reaching the end of our apartment picture project, possibly for the best. On to other more accessible and interesting stuff? Huff, puff?
Later. Out the door at twelve-thirty to catch a bus to Broadway and then a walk to a small café near the Honda dealer to have lunch. A small cup of yogurt (I think it was yogurt). It came in two parts, two cups, one much smaller than the other and filled with strawberry looking stuff, the second larger and filled with the usual white yogurt looking stuff - who knows what it really was?
The car was ready, they'd replaced both air bags, and so back home feeling OK. Nothing going on, in other words, but a kind of “bubble around the head” feeling that cut off any thoughts of going out again for food, entertainment or pictures. Still could, but another mark on the getting old bitching board.
Are we feeling down?
I'll feel better when that USB hub arrives and I can get this damned computer working the way it should.
Later still. The new USB hub works, the system recognizes it, but I'm going to have to tear down the computer, replace the hard drive and put it properly back together tomorrow. I've been lazy as hell about tasks like these, something I was lax enough on earlier in this life, but I find it much too easy lately to avoid expending what amounts to little energy on tasks that invariably result in a good reward. Time to set the computer area up from scratch (again), something I haven't done in a long time.
And you've put off until tomorrow.
On this one I'll follow through. It's almost impossible to run Lightroom at the moment. What worries me is it may have to do with something more than a failed hard drive, timing out while it sits looking for it with every mouse click.
Which would mean you'd really have to get off your duff and track it down.
I'm good about getting off my duff. It's getting off my ass that's the problem.
Evening. The Death In Paradise at seven is hopeless, no way I'll watch and so to bed to check out what I can find on the tablet (Amazon and Netflix). Watched another Inspector Lewis at random, one I'd seen before, but didn't (surprise!) remember the ending. Or most of the middle. We are, if nothing, predictable.