Wednesday. I'm not sure how late is was when I got to sleep. Not too late, but then again not all that early either. Whenever it was I awoke wide awake fifteen minutes before the alarm was set to sound and got up to head out for breakfast on another overcast morning feeling clear headed. The “feeling clear headed” comes in comparison with yesterday's funky in retrospect morning and afternoon that cleared up last night. Probably not good to be surprised to discover your head is screwed on straight when you awake. You'd think.

And so all things are go for the day?

Well, after breakfast, I decided at the very last minute to put off going to the supermarket, even though I'd parked across the street from the café when I arrived so the car would be pointing in the right direction. So what does that say about starting a day? Or a week? Or a life?

Home to lie down, the sinus-upper palate acting up. So another dose of the pain meds before heading out to catch the bus downtown and pick up a prescription refill. Always a good excuse, a prescription refill, and, as it happens, a flu shot. Flu shot? Already? That's what they said and so that's what I did. Set for the year ahead.

A bagel with cream cheese and coffee out at a table in the City Center as the band was tuning up for the Wednesday noon concert. They were sounding good, although I had no intention to hang around to hear them play. Thought about it, but no pictures either.

Back on the bus, getting off a stop early to take the usual construction site photographs starting on the Bellevue side. More green hoses. A walk then along Grand taking two more pictures before reaching the corner to see they were taking down the wood forms that supported the wall opposite the brick wall I'd photographed yesterday. More bricks, more support, more metal, more forms, more pictures. What am I doing with these?

Feel better, the sinus-upper palate problem has disappeared, the head is clear enough, the vision good, we'll see how the afternoon stumbles forward. And when we pick up the guitar.

I've had a feeling since yesterday's session (not unusual right after a lesson) that I'd like to get in a solid week. I can nail this current lesson if I put in the time, do it if only to show myself I can. Again, I've never understood the reason I started playing in the first place, but it's approaching another anniversary since I started in two months and maybe I should think about what that portends. At least put in more time, don't let it just fade away.

Hup!

For the ten thousandth time.

Evening. Ah, right. Today is the day for the Protime blood test and so I did remember to run the test with good results. No need to adjust the blood thinner dosage to bring it back in line. The only problem is I didn't really do anything different this week than I did last week when it was off. So why was it good today?

The evening seems to be going well. Nothing on television, but time spent on the guitar, the riff I've been practicing coming together. You finger the thing following the left hand moving on the frets without looking at your picking hand, which means you've got to quickly pick the right strings without looking, without thinking.

But you can't.

I'm better. I am better. But time and iteration is what's required. Over and over and over, something I find a little, um, difficult after a while. The reason I do it over a longer period: practice - stop, do something else - practice again - stop, do something else. They say Eric Clapton would go from dawn to midnight in working out a riff. I certainly believe it.

To bed early. Some funky dry mouth stuff earlier in the afternoon, perhaps my having eaten that bagel with cream cheese or later, at home, that Pad Thai soup in a cup. A reaction to foods on the ocular migraine to be avoided list. Can't fool with that, my bucko, even if you've lately been able to get away with it.