With The Life
Monday. The Daylight Savings spring forward was fought this morning in the trenches and, although I awoke before the alarm was due to sound, I went back to sleep for an hour and got out the door an hour later than I'd have liked. OK, nothing lost, the battle will be resumed in the morning. So breakfast and back after putting two dollars for an hour into the meter, home now with the sky looking relatively clear with some sun. We'll see if we can get in a nap and then a walk and then we'll sit around wondering what might fill out an afternoon, this first day of a week in March.
Later. A decent walk, one or two don't-think-just-snap pictures, ending up in Jack London Square after a cup of coffee in the Rotunda building. I have to admit I'm pretty much dead in the water at the moment, no ambition to do this or that, the product of a morning or a day or a life. More likely the longer, this problem, an adjustment necessary in the living arrangements, arrangements in the broadest sense of the word. But we've been here before, we'll survive.
It's been a nice morning and now early afternoon with some sun in the clouds. More clouds as the day drags along and they're saying a fair amount of rain starting late this afternoon and through the weekend. We can use it, the reservoirs need the water, so I'll say no more. Maybe get something done inside for a change, although I say that without confidence. No remorse either, just babbling.
A drive over to the post office on West Grand to pick up a package - the new Lightroom upgrade - standing in line behind a fellow having a long conversation with the young clerk. Saying it was a “long conversation” immediately prejudices the account of course, as I couldn't see that it wasn't all on subject, straightening out whatever problem the fellow was having with his mail-package-existence. But I could feel myself becoming crabby, something that happens as often as not. I didn't act out, didn't say anything other than being a little short, but still: what in the hell am I getting crabby about?
The image of some old duffer comes to mind. Everyone, I suspect, has run into some old guy upset about this or that for no apparent reason and I don't like the image, never have. Yet there I stood watching myself slip into a funk. Maybe take it out on Lightroom when I install it, although I'm not sure how you'd go about taking something out on a piece of software.
Later still. The six o'clock International Mystery program was a chapter in another Italian series I'm not able to watch, so more news babbling in the background while playing the guitar. A decent session on the guitar. The first disk of the third and last Deadwood season arrived this afternoon, so we'll see how rapidly it degenerates to the point they decided to bail on creating a fourth. Much better it than the Italian nonsense.
Hmm. Deadwood does indeed hold its own for these first two episodes, we'll see how the next two or three do when the next disk arrives. Not a bad evening, the attitude better, better than whatever was going on this morning, ennui with a capital we. Sounds too maudlin, we'll clean this up tomorrow and get on with the life.
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