And?

I got to bed a little later than I liked last night and, when I awoke, realized it was already seven and, without debate, decided to get up and walk to breakfast (can't do that one needed blood test once you've eaten breakfast), take my time over the papers and walk back home. Take the bus downtown later at ten-thirty for the haircut. Which I did. I now need to follow through on Monday or Tuesday for the car and the tests, which I will. Such is life. We flake when we find it convenient. Get over it. We'll survive.

Got the haircut, learning in the chair my barber is losing her shop next week, the people who own the lease are planning on opening an African American barbershop in its place, so she's looking for another space. Not so easy when you're a hair stylist who's now getting older and you're recovering from the flu in the middle of an antsy market. She has my number, we've made our appointment for next month and she'll call me when she confirms the new address.

Overcast as I was setting out for breakfast, the streets and sidewalks wet. Now it's approaching one in the afternoon and the sun is out with the day looking nice, the temperature good. Maybe a walk down the way later to the morning café for lunch, maybe not. I'd picked up a prescription refill after the haircut, so there's one more out of the way. Take the car to have it serviced this afternoon? Eliminate the task today, make Monday a little easier? Might, although it's a thought that's just popped up and will probably go just as quickly.

Later. It really is warm out there, a walk in a light jacket along the lake to the morning café for a cup of ice cream, no coffee after not being able to finish a cup this morning at Peet's, on then around the block (no hill climbing today) to the ATM on Lakeshore before heading home, taking but one or two pictures along the way.

The sinus-upper palate business has been the only distraction for the day, none of the fuzzy headed, dry mouthed “monkeys screaming in the trees” distractions, to get me down. On the ground. Into the bed. A good sign? We'll know when we give it time.

Three days now?

This is the fourth day of relative clarity (yes, I had to go back to earlier entries and check), but we won't say it's four until morning. Usually the evenings go well. No thought to hop on BART for a San Francisco photo trip, let alone packing a bag and driving over a bridge, but we'll see. The Chinese New Year Parade is coming up next month, my traditional photographic start of the year's parades, maybe we'll see more lost energy returning. I'm ready. Pretty much.

Evening. The second concluding half of a Wallendar episode that began last week. The character, bouncing along in his tripping over his own dick isolation (something we ourselves have never done or experienced), is forgiven by all and sundry when the crime is resolved and the bodies are counted.

I guess I have a parallel reaction to the Korean soaps (that I've been willing to admit watching) in which people do what I, at least, perceive to be terrible things to one another and then, after fifty episodes of mayhem, make up in a minute with all forgiven in episode fifty-one. (Do American soaps operate the same way?) Maybe I'm being too tough on the Wallandar character. They do take him to task within the episodes, they're as aware as I of what's going on, but here I sit watching it again from beginning to end.

Not enough time on the guitar, so far, learning I'm not clear on how to finger this new series of chords. If there's a time when my “fuzzy head” really kicks in, it's at the moment at the end of the lesson when my teacher begins to describe the relationship between a new set of barre chords, variations on the fingering and how they're related.

Although I've played each of them a million thousand times, I'm still not remembering their names and relationships. This week's lesson happens to use a different method of notation and I realize now I'm not sure I'm reading it right. Such is my life.

Approaching ten and it's time for bed.