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.