After midnight, in the wee hours of Friday morning, I find that I can neither sleep nor write a blog post.
Yesterday, I accomplished a respectable amount. I thanked another doctor, wrote a few more notes, and paid some bills. I started laundry and took a break to read a bit. Then when laundry was at a stopping point, I went out and ran some errands. A stop at the post office allowed me to buy more stamps for snail mail. The car was running on fumes, so I stopped and got gas.
I took a break, bought some lunch early in the afternoon, and drove to the park where Ron and I used to often picnic. There weren’t many out and about because it was a drizzly day. I don’t much remember what I saw or who was there. The visit morphed into one of a line that seems indistinguishable one from another. The day seemed to need more tasks, and so I piled a few on. After I returned home, I tended to the laundry, paid a few more bills, shredded junk mail, video chatted with family, and listened to some old tunes.
There seems a sameness about these days, that is disconcerting. There seems a difference in myself, that is perplexing.