Monday. Awakened as I did yesterday half an hour before the alarm was set to sound, up without any particular issues with a stomach that was sore and aching, but certainly not enough to keep us from breakfast.

And so off on another what looks it will be another warm and sunny day. Pain pills to pick up at the pharmacy later for the remaining aches and soreness. A little difficult to go by the pharmacy right after you get out of the hospital when you really need them, but such is (this) life.

There were three cement trucks parked in a line unloading at the construction site as I was driving home so they've started pouring cement. We'll head out for that prescription in another half hour and take a few pictures of the process as we wait for a bus.

Later. Downtown to pick up the prescription, back to and on the bus catching it with but a minute to spare, off a stop early to take pictures at the construction site. These particular photographs were taken by holding the camera up over a plywood fence where I can only see by looking up at the back of the camera display in order to point it in the right direction and so the image is a little wiggy, but still, lots of cement being poured, a whole lot more to come.

OK, back at the apartment: Vicodin. I've not had it before unless they've given it to me at various times in a hospital. One tablet. I think I'll lie down and see if the ache is reduced - again, the aching isn't strong enough to demand something like Vicodin at this stage, but it should then indeed do the deed - and, one hopes, lead to a successful nap. Diddle-dee-dap.

You sound like a fucking drug addict.

It's the American thing. If it comes in a plastic vial with a prescription sticker attached it's as good as mother's milk: take two, can't hurt.

Later still. No sleep. Some gas. They asked me after the operation if I were having gas. Why yes, I said. Rooms full, hadn't they noticed? Evidently these operations cause you to form gas, but four days later with an interval of relative quiet in between? That plain waffle with sliced strawberries and bananas for breakfast? Does any of this matter, just babbling?

A walk to the 7-11 look-alike for an ice cream cone. Not really hungry, but that was all I could think to eat. A picture setting out, a picture or two coming back. I suspect they will finish pouring this round of cement by the end of the week. Pictures in any case.

The Vicodin may or may not have had an effect. Still sore, about the same level of soreness, so we'll try it again. We do not take more at a time than they advise.

Unless it hurts.

Well, yes. Unless it hurts. They said one or two pills every six hours. I only took one.

Evening. That first one seems to have been enough Vicodin, the aching is, perhaps only for the moment, gone, so we'll put them up on the shelf and save them for another day. One hopes another day doesn't come.

A Netflix movie and then another Netflix movie, finishing one and then the other. I suspect that's common, having a couple of dozen movies in the queue that you've started and then stopped and then started again.

Half the time I have trouble remembering what had happened when I again open one a week or more later. What was this story line again? It comes back, but it can take a few minutes.

To bed early? Nothing on television I suspect I'll watch and you can only watch Netflix for so long before you run dry. About as long as I've run today, I'd say.