Thursday. To bed, lights out, to sleep at a decent hour to arise with the alarm (awakening a couple of times last night) on a rainy morning, off to breakfast with the papers in tow. I mentioned to my waitress I couldn't have any caffeine this morning as I had a pulmonary test scheduled for later and caffeine was verboten. She poured me a small cup of decaf.

Why hadn't I thought of decaf? I didn't want to suggest something else as she'd already poured, so I had a small amount of decaf with breakfast. We'll mention is at the test. Probably no problem at all, but not thinking.

Later. A drive to the hospital parking on the usual street. When it comes to hospitals I have a “usual street”. Still, a parking slot. Over to the hospital, one I've been to for these tests in the past, one two years ago, one four. Or so I understood when they told me. I only remembered but one.

Some breathing in specific patterns into a tube while a clever machine made readings, displaying and spitting out nice looking graphs and charts, the technician and doctor saying the results looked good. Which I'm assuming is good. I haven't had any complaints about the lungs, this was scheduled six months ago as a last test to be sure the cat dandruff they say is causing the congestion was now cured, so again: good. Lets hope that's what the doctor says when we meet (for what, one hopes, is the last time) next month.

Back home, stopping by the 7-11 look-alike for an ice cream bar and then on to crawl into bed for a two hour nap, some it asleep. No listening to the radio this time, I was dragging, had been since I'd gotten up, no doubt about it. Feel better now, the sky still overcast, but a walk to the construction site to see what they'd accomplished since late yesterday when I left them with much on their plate. But in a minute.

Later still. A walk over to the construction site. They had finished pouring the cement late yesterday (I'm assuming, since there was a single light stand set up by the area they had yet to finish and there was no sign of pumper trucks or cement trucks when I returned from breakfast) and so hurried pictures of the areas involved.

Walking back, thinking I'd like something to eat, a bus pulled up and so I got on the bus and headed downtown. A turkey bagel sandwich and coffee at the usual place. Felt good. Hungry, for a change. Skipped adding a donut as I'd done yesterday. Thought about it though. An appetite. Hmm. Where'd that come from?

A walk then to Broadway, cutting in front of City Hall, an exercise group of some kind I've passed by in this area in the past working out in three's. A picture. I wish I could have gotten a picture of the couple off to the side as they both had stopped in their tracks staring with their mouths wide open. So it goes.

A bus to Grand, a walk then back home arriving after three. Felt better, but again, tired, a bit physically tired as well from the walk, but another day has started slowly again picking up as it does as evening approaches.

Which means?

I'd like to know.

Evening. Today was the day for the weekly home Protime blood test and I've been waiting on a mail delivery of the little plastic strips for the meter and onto which you dibble the blood for testing. They haven't arrived. Takes them time to arrive, although usually not this much time, as I ordered them two weeks ago. I think. I'm pretty sure.

A memory glitch? Did I indeed order them? The sequence of steps is straightforward, you call in the test result to their automated system and then, knowing you need more strips, you call in your order to another automated system. I did that, did I not? We'll call and check tomorrow, but I wonder. Another sign, more disturbing than most.