I Have A Hunch
Thursday. I did indeed get to bed early, sometime after nine, up at seven-thirty having forgotten to set the alarm (how did I manage that?), so a long night's sleep. Can't hurt. Be nice to figure a way to make it more common, cut down maybe on the naps.
Off to breakfast to feed the meter and then dawdle over the papers, a run by the supermarket on the way back. I've been a pound or two over lately, so I was careful about what I bought. I find I eat way too much yogurt if it's sitting in the refrigerator, it's tasty in a time when many things aren't, the little containers easy to open, easy to eat and low fat yogurt does add up when you eat them like peanuts.
Anyway, the fog seems to be burning off, the is attitude good, the temperature outside is good, we'll think about doing something adventuresome later today before we then blow it off. Hup!
Later. A slow day. A couple of naps, twice putting on a jacket to head out, only to stop and turn around before opening the door. There was nowhere I wanted to go and decided I was tired, slow and a bit rattled, although it's hard to know you're rattled when you're just sitting around taking naps.
No bats flying in from the east? Rats in the walls, strange sounds from the closet?
Going back to read what you've written earlier in the day is a good indication. Flaky. Incoherent. Needing an edit. Lots of edit. A day of bad copy, naps and the occasional bowl of cereal. Welcome to your eighth decade, my man, recognizing with some surprise it's much as people have described.
Evening. Nothing playing at six. You'd think I'd subscribe to cable or something if I can't find anything on these few channels, but I suspect I'd still be bitching if I added cable and satellite to the current Netflix and Amazon. The Internet connection feeds to the TV, although I haven't added the TV service. So I understand my bitching is my own doing. I'm not sure I've ever really warmed to television.
I remember, though, when the family moved from a small town north of Seattle, to Yonkers, just outside New York City, we were all watching Sid Caesar and his The Show of Shows, then the most popular hour an a half on television. Back then I watched television. My sixth grade English teacher wasn't a fan. She'd had Caesar in her class in her earlier career and he was evidently a disruptive buffoon in class.
I could imagine a ten or twelve year old Caesar buffoon, certainly the adult Caesar was a buffoon, but a brilliant buffoon, a buffoon's buffoon, an artist of genius. I was twelve years old and knew such to be fact. So I have in my past watched other than foreign language police procedurals. I have.
A new chapter of Elementary tonight at ten. Late. Will I watch it tonight or will I watch it later online? Don't know, right now, but I have a hunch.