Today I got up an hour or so late, ate breakfast down the street at the cafe near the lake (beyond the movie theater) and did little else. Polished yesterday's entry and posted it before noon. Thought about going to a movie, the new Coen brothers offering looks pretty good, but couldn't get the energy together to drive across town, find parking and sit for two hours. When the day comes that you can download a movie and play it at home for a fee they are going to make a lot of money. A lot of money. And I am going to really become a hermit.

That's a little worrisome, the hermit bit. That's one aspect of getting older that I occasionally wonder about. The physical changes, at least at my age, don't amount to much, but occasionally I will catch myself in the mirror with an expression or catch myself saying something or trip with my thinking and that brings forth an image of what I internally describe as age over the edge. Old guy stuff. Afraid of the outside world, no longer able to carry on a completely coherent conversation, weak after climbing the stairs. Old folks. My assumption is that I will be dead long before all of that's in place, but life, bless its heart, can have a sense of humor. Sometimes your fate is not smack in the middle of the bell shaped curve. Like roulette, your number isn't up until its up. Ah, well. The day is long, the thoughts are languid and troublesome not.

I went for my regular dental checkup last week and discussed the state of my mouth with my dentist. This is my regular dentist, you understand, and not the surgeon who moved my jaw forward. I think he's probably a good dentist, because after asking me a number of questions, he took a panoramic xray of my mouth and showed me the results. Teeth, bone and, um, stuff. A veritable array of small pieces of hardware in the form of pins and metal reinforcing strips and wires and stuff. He pointed out what to look for, any sign of darkness at the edges of the metal, the grooves in the bone in which the major nerves run from the base of the jaw to the chin. He said it was as clean as any he'd seen, no sign of infection, no sign of problems and, unless I got myself damaged in an automobile accident or took a weird fall in a wrestling match, that was that. That's good, I thought, it certainly explains the xrays the surgeon had done at six months and twelve months after the operation, although this is the first time that I'd seen a picture of the landscape underneath.

Ah, well. As I said, the day is long, the thoughts are languid and troublesome not.