What went before: 1,266 new words — not too bad for a woman who thought she was going to sit down in the comfy office chair, open the laptop and — fall asleep.
I b’lieve I will be ordering in a Garmin tracker. The insurance may pay for it, and even if not, the stress of the sporadically working FitBit is — stressful. And it’s something I can do something about.
The insurance bill for the car and the house has landed, so I’ll be writing that check before I use the money for something foolish, like buying a dozen eggs. Couple other pieces of snail that I need to deal with came in, too, though nothing particularly urgent.
Tomorrow, I need to go visit the cardiologist so they can glue one of those heart monitors to my chest for 30 day. Yes, yes; I did do this before. The doctors are bored. Or fishing. It would be nice if they got bored of fishing.
I note that I am Out of Cookies. That was careless of me. OTOH, maybe I’ll make scones tomorrow morning, so I’ll have something nice to eat with my tea when I come home from the cardiologist.
And that? Is all I’ve got.
Until. . .
Tuesday. Glowering and cold at the moment. Beans are calling for a high of 51F/11C. We’ll see.
In the meanwhile, breakfast was homemade wheat bread toast, cream cheese, grapes. As I remarked to Rook, who was sitting on my lap at the time, “These grapes ain’t nothin to write home about, so it’s a good thing we’re already here.’
I’ll take the trash and recycling to the curb as soon as I finish my first cup of tea and find my shoes.
Oven heating for scones.
My arm that received the booster shot hurts. I realize belatedly that it is my left arm. I’m usually more careful than that, but — can’t really get a re-do. And thinking about it — I kind of ache all over, which I ascribe in equal portion to the COVID shot and fifteen trips up and down the cellar stairs in service of getting things to where they needed to be.
After I put the trash out, get the scones in the oven, and do my duty to the cats, I’ll look over what I wrote yesterday, and add in all the names that I had forgotten since the last time I used them.
The cats felt that 5 hours and 10 minutes of not-particularly-restful sleep was enough for me. On the one hand, I would have liked more sleep. On the other, I was having some very anxious dreams, which makes me feel like that guy who complained the food wasn’t very good and the servings were too small.
All that said, I’m angling to go to bed early tonight, given that the Things I have to accomplish are inconveniently timed for fitting in a nap.
It’s good to have A Plan.
How much sleep did you get last night?
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Right before he started chewing on my head — that’s head, not hair — Trooper gave me to understand that There Was No Food In the Bowls. As we see here, Trooper was exaggerating slightly:
Oh, today’s blog post title brought to you by Odetta and Harry Belafonte, “There’s a Hole in the Bucket.”