I went to bed last night at a respectable hour, reading my book, finishing my wine, watching Heavy on the Women's Channel. I had a bottle of water at the ready and figured I'd be dozing soon enough.

But, no. I didn't doze. I read. I read. The movie was over. I finished my wine. I read. I flipped the TV to some dog show. FFP came to bed. He read. We laughed at some silly dogs. He turned out his light. I read. Not sleepy.

I turned out the big light. It was midnight. So I turned out my reading light. I tossed. I turned. I wasn't troubled. I was just, well, wide awake. And a little hungry.

So I went to the kitchen and ate cheddar cheese and the rest of a pack of those 'baby' carrots that are really big carrots shaped into little ones. (Aren't they?) I read the newspapers that were piled around the breakfast table while eating. Finally about one I went back to bed. The dog had been up with me, begging for cheese, but when I went to the toilet before actually getting back in bed she usurped my place and left me only this little spot (FFP was near the middle as usual allowing the dog about half the bed on his other side). Basically, I had my usual sliver of the bed (OK) but with the dog on my head taking my pillows. I told her to move. She did. I tried to think about things that put me to sleep. And it worked I guess because sleep I did. Finally.

But I didn't get up very early. FFP said something about 'slugging' the bed. Yeah, I was. But when I finally got up at almost eight and got dressed in my 'work outside' clothes and had coffee and wasted some time in front of the computer, I felt pretty good.

When you are retired your bedding and rising can fall into more elaborate patterns. Of course, you have schedules with other people for parties and dinners and tennis and meetings. But mostly you have to fill your time and it's amazing how little time there is and yet how much.

It's hard to explain. I'm amazed that the days zip by (without me writing anything but this journal, of course). But I'm also amazed at how much I get done. Especially if you count fixing meals and cleaning up, shopping and e-mail. And moving stuff around. Last night I made name tag glass hangers for the party next week and started tediously cutting them out into little circles with a slit and an interior circle. And yesterday, of course, I spent over an hour and a half in the gym and a lot of time in the yard. I made a dinner date for Saturday and took the time to look up on the Internet where to find SuRu. (She moved house this week.)

So, anyway, I finally started the day and then I filled it by trying to hide messes in the yard. (It's too close to the party to actually do anything about them.) I filled over an hour going to the club. I made myself two weird meals. I went to the wine store with my friend to score party wine. I moved a bunch of books from one spot to another. I took trash out of the house and out to the curb. I studied our budget a little. I changed what computer supported one of the printers and made this new location the default printer for FFP's and the bookkeeper's systems. I took one shower and thought about taking another. I dressed three times...for the yard, for my workout, to go out. And...I went out with Forrest...first to a cocktail party soft opening of a bar and then to Four Seasons. All told we spent about four hours from the time we left the house until we returned. And I drank a little (well, my limit probably) so I just fell into bed then.

Now, if I worked then probably I wouldn't have gotten anything done except maybe the wine store and the going out. My yard wouldn't look neater, I wouldn't have that hour on the exercise bike (while reading I might add). But...still it seems that I should be able to accomplish more, doesn't it?

 

 

 

 

 

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I seemed to be out of sync today. But it was OK.