In The Past
Wednesday. Up, down, up, down. Gotta skip this analyzing of each and every little ache and pain each and every day. I have too much time on my hands. Think about these things once a week; once a month. Keep it to the basics. Count the fingers, count the toes. Do the sox match? Enough is enough. Switch to more interesting stuff even if I have to make it up. Yesterday wasn't great, but then it wasn't all that bad either. I mean, I sat around (true) feeling blue, but I watched a movie, had a couple of drinks later in the evening, went to bed clear headed and slept like a log. (I'm an expert on logs.) Today was fine. I had lunch with The Ladies, an excellent lunch, where I took a couple of pictures without being too intrusive (I think - it's easy to kid yourself).
Back to the apartment, sitting here now writing and wondering if I might watch the new movie that arrived from Netflix this afternoon. I discover, when I'm reading the Netflix recommended movie blurbs, that I often end up ordering movies, if I thought about it a little bit longer, I really don't want to watch. Becket arrived yesterday starring a young Richard Burton and Peter O'Tool. I saw it when it was released. I knew I'd seen it when I ordered it. If I'd thought about it I'd have remembered it was OK when I saw it, but really wouldn't like to see it again. I loaded it last night and watched the first scene and then quit. Maybe I'll watch the rest of it and maybe I won't, but I knew I was treading into dangerous territory when I ordered it. How bright is that?
About as bright as anyone who reads this expects.
I seem to recall we've had this conversation in the past.
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