You don't know? You've just returned from breakfast.

The balcony door is open, but there's no wind, no sense of what it's like outside. Walking across the street after breakfast to photograph the change in gas prices (up, up, up) I wasn't paying attention. Not too cool, not too warm, but humid. Definitely humid. The Yahoo Oakland weather site says it's fifty-nine, showers today, cloudy tomorrow morning for the Solano Stroll, sun in the afternoon.

Mr. S's band is playing in Santa Rosa this evening at eight and I agreed to pick up Mr. E at the downtown Oakland BART station and drive up for the show and I'm thinking of crapping out. I promised myself I'd fill those two empty picture slots on artandlife and getting back from a gig in Santa Rosa later tonight, only to get up early tomorrow morning to run around Solano Avenue, well, I don't know. Or I do know and I'm thinking straight for a change? Not that thinking straight is something I can still recognize. Of course.

No carping about clogged lungs and coughs?

We'll undoubtedly get to that.

Later. A quick nap before noon remembering, as I was drifting off, I hadn't done my morning Flonase jolt from the inhaler. You go on automatic pilot in the mornings (I do, anyway) and the automated taking my pills (vitamins, mostly, prescribed the the doctor - iron, B-12, folic acid and such) hasn't included until recently the opening of the right door on the kitchen cabinet where the Flonase bottle is now stored. The right door is for the evening when I take the rest of the crap. So, turn on the computer, feed the cat, take the pills, log into the computer, get dressed, grab a camera and go to breakfast has been the routine, done awake, done asleep. Gets the day started, but is that the way to start your day? On auto pilot? Or is this too trivial to consider? One suspects.

You're wondering when forgetting the inhaler leads in time to forgetting to take your pills altogether or taking your pills twice to your demise. Things you've read about older folks doing in the papers.

Why do you think I toy with stopping the papers over breakfast? Too many things to think about.

Later still. It's been a slow motion day with two naps. I don't think Mr. E was all that disappointed when I cancelled out on Santa Rosa this evening. Not sure why I'm doing all this sleeping, the blood pressure is way down when I lie down, getting up and measuring it while standing it clocks in around ninety something over sixty something, this after two weeks taking the half dose. Low enough you want to sit down and get the horizon back, although it does come back once you've been up a bit and walking. So. I did talk with the nurse on Friday, she will relay the doctor's advice on Monday.

Nothing much on TV, an urge to run out and buy something comforting, an urge to go to a movie if I had the energy. Bitch, bitch; moan moan. It's the day, it's the month, it's the phase of the moon (behind the clouds), but I'm dry as a stick and pooped. (A medical term: “pooped”. I'd explain the technical derivation if there were time.)