Tuesday. Awakened at just before six, remembering I needed to go to the lab before breakfast for tests that require fasting, and so dawdled along until seven, returning to the bedroom after turning on the computer, to listen to a program that had just started on KPFA at seven, an interview with a cartoonist who'd done a book with another writer on the economy. I'd missed the introduction, but wait a minute! Cartoonist, “History Of”?
Larry Gonick, a friend from way back in the seventies who'd started his History of the Universe series at the Rip Off Press and who's latest book is Hyper-Capitalism, a copy of which KPFA was giving away with a hundred dollar donation. Good. He sounds a lot more coherent than I do at this later stage of our existence.
But then who doesn't?
A walk to the bus top, a ride to Broadway, a walk to the lab (cold, but not raining) to wait in line to have the blood drawn, a walk back to the bus stop at Grand to miss the bus by two minutes, watching it pass by running early.
OK, big deal. A walk almost all the way home to catch the next bus to the morning restaurant to have the single pork chop, eggs over medium, country potatoes, toast, fruit cup and coffee over the papers that I'd been carrying in the backpack this time along with the small V3 camera.
Weren't you nervous about the pork chop and how it might be bringing on the vision-fuzzy headed stuff later?
We're keeping notes to see if it does correlate or if I'm just hallucinating about my breakfast food choices causing these weird head things to come on later. Besides, I totally spaced out and really didn't think about it until I sat down here at the computer.
Took the bus home. I'd had enough walking.
Nothing on the schedule for the rest of the day (or the week, for that matter). Still overcast and grey out there as it approaches one, they're saying rain later and tomorrow. We may be driving to breakfast tomorrow.
Evening. To bed early, tired, genuinely so, not that other kind I've been moaning about.