A Mellow Idiot
Wednesday. I did get to bed early, fell asleep before ten, up though after seven having ignored the alarm set for five forty-five, off to breakfast and back now on an overcast morning. OK, maybe some laundry later, maybe whatever later, but maybe a nap in the interim.
Later. We are just cruising along, I guess, the head in a bit of a bubble after a bus ride downtown to have a strawberry, sour cream and ice cream crêpe with a cup of coffee out in the City Center, watching the preparations for an A's support rally of some kind and a band setting up I assume to play at noon. Didn't wait around for the band or the A's, headed over across the street to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription refill and then walked on home. In a bubble.
Some more effort now on cleaning and re-arranging the bedroom, I think, maybe letting some of it bleed over into the bathroom. The mirror and the cabinet below the mirror could use a little work. Now and again. Now, rather than again.
We'll put off the laundry until tomorrow morning, get it done before the guitar lesson, finish this week of guitar practice with the usual procrastination in check. But this is enough “get your act together Bubba” babble for a day, we need to save some for tomorrow.
Evening. Couldn't watch the six o'clock Italian thing, watched something even more horrible on another channel, but played along all the while on the guitar, so our guitar time is looking good, the series of barre chord changes running up and down the neck seem easier, faster. Which I can assure you is good, whether or not you're all that familiar with barre chords.
Oh, and I've had a couple of shots of Jack Daniels, we'll get to bed early and see how this plays out.
You're an idiot.
But a mellow idiot.