As in your head.

I believe I mentioned: the head is fine.

Later. Did the laundry when I returned from breakfast. Didn't really want to do the laundry, but I started putting things into the basket, a “do the laundry” routine then kicking in leaving no choice other than to do it. The actual doing is easy, the deciding to begin is the difficult part.

You had at least another week of clean clothes still left in the closet.

I dunno. It seems it just needed to happen and I didn't take part in the decision.

A quick walk over to the construction site to photograph the line of foundation footings they'd finished yesterday as the last two loads tumbled in the drier, on to the lake (very few birds), back to fold and hang the now finished laundry, make the bed and catch a bus downtown. I was hungry. Not enough breakfast.

A chicken salad at Genji's, a walk to the pharmacy to replenish one of the supplements I'd run out of this morning, a walk then to the City Center for a cup of coffee out in front of the bagel shop, the place noon hour crowded. No pictures other than a snapshot out in front of the City Hall because how could I not?

Home then on the bus, more pictures of the construction site and then a nap. Well, tired not unlike yesterday's muscles aching tired, so lying down then to watch two more episodes of House. Episode eighteen. When did I start these? Three days ago? Eighteen episodes, forty-five minutes an episode? What percentage of my time has been spent watching a crazy make believe doctor?

Evening. Another Elementary on at ten, a new episode. After these last couple of nights staying up late the mind is suggesting staying up late another night might not be the best idea of the week and so to bed feeling righteous after bailing on the Inspector Lewis at eight deciding life was too short to sit there and watch.

Up however, (mostly) wide awake, at ten. Kismet. Fate. Life's basket of tragedies stripped to their essence: “he stayed up late.” There is some humor in it.