Bed By Eleven
Thursday. To bed at ten, up at seven (we skipped setting the alarm), off to breakfast and back on another clear, going to be warm day. Feel pretty good, the guitar lesson coming up at noon. We're in better shape than we've been for a while with the new chord changes, I'll be curious to see how they go. It goes slowly, this learning to play the guitar, but it does go. Grudgingly, but it can surprise you too when suddenly you make a chord change cleanly without really thinking or trying that you've been sweating over for what seems by now to have been forever.
Maybe a nap, maybe a little more guitar, maybe just shut up and wait until something comes along worth saying.
That would be a change. Might be a long wait.
We're not so good with waiting or change at this stage of our age anymore.
Later. Another interesting guitar lesson. I have great respect for my instructor, patience like his is rare, way beyond anything I might understand and I (as I'm sure you've all noted) am a most pacific, rarely to be riled, guy. Me oh my. Except in long grocery lines where the checkout person is discussing the vagaries of life with his or her customer instead of scanning his or her groceries and getting to me. Deedle-dee-dee.
You went by the supermarket again after your lesson?
Indeed, but there wasn't but one slow, but not overly slow, old guy in line ahead of me and now I'm home, my shopping done for the week. So I'm not sure where that little outburst may have come from.
And the lesson? I don't know, I fumbled along, he didn't seem concerned, we've been given more things to master this week before we're again faced by a trial of humility and fumbling. And mumbling. We don't need any practice with our mumbling.
And suffering?
Actually not. We've been given a new chord and I'm looking forward to playing it every which way until I get it down. I do eventually get them down. It just possibly takes me longer than it may take others.
Maybe best you go to lunch.
Maybe, but not to the morning café. I just came back from the supermarket, today's lunch is sitting in its various pieces in the refrigerator right now awaiting assembly. A step up from it sitting up in a cupboard, waiting inside of a can.
Later still. A nap. I don't know why a nap, I did lie down for close to an hour before driving over to the guitar lesson, but a nap - first, second or last - is a nap, no complaints about that, and I do feel better.
Evening. I go on about editing and I did just now deleted a bunch of stuff judged too incomprehensible to fix, and figured I'd just, you know, start again.
The day has indeed ended nicely. Two of the single serving bottles of sake starting about six - I did go by the supermarket, after all - the six o'clock police procedural on Thursdays is a British artifice about the travails of obesity in a world that obsesses on thin, learning (after that one episode I did watch to see what it was about) I can permanently do without. More time on the guitar, gliding into another Detective Lewis episode at nine, to bed by eleven.
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