No more 9 - 11 bullshit still backed up in your system?

God, I hope not. It seems trivial, but I found it difficult to write my last couple of entries. Part of that was the week of aching head and blurry eyes - you don't want to think, concentrate or pontificate when your head is twisted - and part of that was, I don't know: sloth, character, wine. I had a good day at the office today, got something done, and I framed two more photographs this evening adding them to the line of framed photographs I have sitting on the floor against my bedroom wall. I'm going to put them up on the wall and life will undoubtedly be wonderful when they're done.

Really.

Tuesday. Day three (deedle-dee-dee) and the head feels like your head feels after a cold and the nose and the sinuses are letting in the air for the first time, the air cold and clean and nice. All of it aches, of course, but not nearly as much as in the past and I walked around the downtown during lunch today clear headed and encouraged, which is good. An OK day, overly warm in the sun (by my lights), but light jacket weather when walking in the shade, which I find fine. I took a little sun, I took a little shade and then I left work about thirty minutes early to celebrate.

You've heard the term ‘watching paint dry’?

You are suggesting the world is not hanging on my every little ache, my every little pain, my every little gurgle?

Let us not go there. Leave something to bitch about if and when you enter another decade.

Indeed. Another picture to frame this evening, another frame kit less on the pile. The dozen rolls of black and white film are still sitting on the kitchen counter, but we're both amused, my film and I, and mutual amusement can lead most anywhere given time.