No more stomach.

Indeed. A run downtown later to pick up pills and check the place I'm going to have the endoscopy tomorrow, check it out because it happen's to be right there and I might as well be sure, so I can describe it to whatever soul I'm able to talk into picking me up after it's over tomorrow. They won't let you leave in a cab, you have to have an adult come and pick you up as they're afraid you might drive within the twenty-four hours after having been under an anesthetic.

I've had these before in the late eighties in Napa, they do make you woozy, but you're able to get around without much trouble. I'd rather just walk across the street from the clinic and hop a bus, but I'm thinking of having someone from my old office walk two short blocks to the clinic to sheppard me out the door to hop the bus or take a cab. Cheating, yes, but I figure it's OK as long as I don't do any driving. They're worried about liability, of course, with some possible thoughts about innocents who might be put in danger by anesthetized people behind a wheel. Don't want no drug addled crazies behind a wheel in Oakland.

Later. OK, back now at eleven in the morning, the pills and potions safely in the cupboard, the entrance to the building I'm to have the sonogram in tomorrow clearly fixed in my mind, Ms. A recruited to get me out of the clinic, the attitude good for an old fart here in Oakland.

Later still. A run to the supermarket with a side trip to Ace hardware to buy a bottle of butane for my candle lighter, something I've been thinking of doing for the last two months. The tip of the fuel canister goes into the lighter, psst!, and I'm up and lighting candles again. More than enough excitement for a day, let me tell you, I can't wait til the sun goes down and I can try it out.