Until You Know
Monday. We've had a week of temperatures that have reached the low nineties, a little too warm for me, but no complaints. The difference has been in the evenings that have not cooled off with wind or fog from the ocean as they usually do, so it's been more difficult to sleep. As with last night. To bed at ten, but caught up with an interview on public radio with Paul Erlich and he and his wife's new book The Dominant Animal: Human Evolution and the Environment discussing the various interconnected aspects of global warming and some of its consequences. I'm a sucker for such discussions so I didn't get to sleep until after eleven and, in that overly warm night, a fitful sleep at that. So up at eight instead of six, feeling pretty good after getting out of bed. For some reason the sinus-upper palate things can be quite intense when waking up (from lying down I'm guessing), but goes away on its own fairly rapidly once I'm vertical.
So, a long introduction to breakfast at the usual place reading the papers, now back and preparing to go to a doctor's appointment before noon. The pulmonary doctor. I want to talk about cat allergies, these damned inhalers and the phase of the moon. We can skip, if necessary, the phases of the moon.
Later. My, my. It seems the questionable inhaler I was suspecting of causing or contributing to the double vision thing indeed has a component capable of causing it. So I'm off it for a week starting now and we'll see what happens. Another drug (we're a god damned chemical factory around here) to replace it after the week is over. Cross our fingers. And our toes.
The cat, however, is a problem. Allergies to cats, even at this late stage in life, he's saying are common and they cause precisely the low level symptoms I've been experiencing. I hope that's not true, but his recommendation was I get “another species” pet. Another species. A dog? Not here in the apartment. Maybe, if I should move to a more suitable place, but I feel badly about not letting my cat outside and, although I'd walk the dog, have no trouble getting out and walking, I wouldn't feel right having one cooped up in this apartment. I'm not sure I myself am happy being cooped up in this apartment. It's not the size or the location, I just need to get outside every day and, I would suspect, dogs have the same genetic aspects.
Otherwise I feel pretty good home now after the appointment. The day is going to be as warm as recent days, hotter than this youngster likes, but he'll (we'll) get outside pretty quick, I would think. Probably within the hour.
Later still. A good day, the head a bit stuffy in the sense it's always a bit stuffy, but otherwise behaving. A walk down the way to have an iced tea and a Pecan something or other at the usual place, a walk back sticking my head in at Walden Pond books (it really is an excellent book store) before heading home. A picture or two, nothing to write home about. I think some guitar practice (I've been remiss lately, but I have been getting in at least some practice every day and still see progress) and a look around the computer desk to trash those two printers I talked about and clean some more of these cables up. We're making progress.
No double vision so far. I took the one med I'm stopping this morning so I'll skip the first dose this evening and see how it goes over the week.
The two printers are now in the back of the car. I'll pay the fee to have them recycled. No reason to go too far in this dump them in the odd (unwatched) commercial trash bin business. A cat scratch post, OK. A broken foot stool, OK. Printer inks and such, not so OK. Well see if I hold true Wednesday morning when I pass that trash bin again, see if it has room for stuff. An ambivalent morality here, I'm afraid. You wonder if it stretches over time, gets worse as you grow older. I hope not, but you never know. Until you know.
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