I’ve misplaced my glasses again.

And miscalculated again how much time it takes to do what I need to do in the morning and still make the train on time.

Some days coffee is fine on an empty stomach, some days I think it will turn me inside-out – days like today where the things on my to-do list crowd like cows at the barn door and I can’t get out in front of them to get started.

Leonard is having a clinging morning. His snout repeatedly knocking my arm away from the keyboard.

His sweet eyes pleading – he has a hard time keeping track of the days. Covid has sent his schedule in a spin, too. I tell him it’s Monday – like that means anything to him. Treat? Distraction. I hear his nails on the hardwood floor as he goes into the other room sniffing for the peanut butter hidden in a rubber ball.

I’ll run after the morning meeting – along the creek near the school. I’ll wash-up, teach two classes, and let all the other obligations fall into place according to the world’s ticking clock.

Then catch the train to the hospital for a little procedure. The doctor told me to take some pain reliever before I get there. Choosing pain relievers for a “little procedure” when you’re already on blood thinners is a little complex.

I’ve poured two shots of vodka into a flask and am hoping the train isn’t crowded.

It’s so much easier to swallow pills.

This is a fair amount of nothing. But sometimes just a ticking off of the to-do list is meaningful for its own sake.

Normalizing.