At The Apartment
Thursday. The sky looks pretty clear, the sun is now coming up, breakfast has been eaten and the papers read. Where have I heard this before? No complaints, there are many more dicey ways to wake up and start the day that can rock the boat, lending more excitement than is absolutely necessary to an early Thursday morning. Methinks. The day is coming soon enough when we won't be waking up at all so let's not complain about getting up and out and about feeling well, even though I live with the unsettling thought I need to do the laundry. They're painting the laundry room floor tomorrow, putting the washers off line for two or three days, and I'm down to my last clean underwear. Living close to the edge, don't you think, allowing yourself to approach so close to the precipice?
You've beaten that horse to death. Think about your daily writing routine, start writing in the afternoon after you've accomplished something during the day, focus on that.
OK, the first two loads are in the wash. They're painting the stair wells today, so there's people running around and we're limited to using the elevator, again through the weekend. Something different. I'm OK with that and I'm OK now that I've learned no one else was running their laundry at the last minute now that they've posted warning signs saying starting tomorrow the laundry room will be off limits. My, my. Fireworks around here on an early Thursday morning.
Thou art hopeless, my friend.
Maybe it's the cold weather as I watch reality change as I get further into this retirement business. The self portrait I took yesterday is just a first shot with little thought to lighting and the like, but it's a start. I got the tripod up. I found the camera plate. I'll take more today before I head off to San Francisco later to meet with some of the usual crew to discuss national issues of importance over Guinness. Under Guinness. At the table with Mr. Guinness.
The last two loads of six loads of wash are finished and drier is working on its second load. Takes about an hour to run two loads from the washer through a single load in the drier. Wouldn't take any time at all if I did my laundry say every week, a load or two in the washer at an outing fed in a single load through the drier. But that, for some reason, has been impossible to accomplish except when the clock flips and we've shifted for whatever reason into fantasy time. Or is it shifted from fantasy time? Hard to keep these things straight now that I'm old and the brain is winding down.
Mixed clouds and sun now that it's afternoon, the Oakland weather web site calling for a chance of rain later with a high today of fifty. OK. Winter in Oakland. The laundry is done and folded, the socks sit in a plastic tub yet to be matched. I'll get to them tomorrow. Fresh sheets on the bed. I was in need of fresh sheets on the bed. Ordered two down pillows from Macy's on the web, free shipping and purchased at some impossible percentage just before Christmas not to be repeated off the retail price, although I don't know if anyone ever sells anything at what they call the “retail price”. Percentage of what? Very nice down pillows from the look of them, I might add. They are long overdue, these pillows, here at the apartment.
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