Time keeps going, whether you do or not. There's a barge in the river where we eat and sleep. It moves slowly, or so it seems, while we take off on bicycles or walks and catch up again. But inexorable is the barge, life's time line.

OK, bad metaphor maybe.

I was groggy getting up, but I was early for water aerobics. Afterward, I put on my shorts, T-Shirt and tennies and worked out in the gym. I felt like I had all the time in the world for the gym. In reality, there were things I needed to be doing. There always are things to do.

I got home and, as usual, washed out my bathing suit. That's something you need to do before you forget it and the chlorine rots your suit away prematurely. I noticed the toilet looked like it was stopped up and had to spend a little time with plumber's friend getting that fixed. My sister had called and I called her back. When I took the old towels I'd used to mop up the floor to the laundry, I noticed sheets that needed folding.

Anyway, after eleven, I sat down at my computer with some water and a coffee yogurt. I thought, hmm, maybe I'll turn on the TV and see if I can find any U.S. Open Tennis. Would that be a mistake? Probably. As it turned out I only watched the tube briefly. There have been times when I stared at the TV and lost track of time. Oddly, now that I'm retired I don't watch that much. I don't know why. I always feel like I have another pressing engagement. Sometimes I half watch with Forrest while reading. Then I'll notice his eyes are closed.

The Roadrunner modem slid into oblivion. There was time on hold and time talking to a customer representative. Time rebooting the modem and hoping.

And I sorted more of Mom's old pictures, postcards and travel memorabilia. Some things only mean something to the person who perserved them. There are pictures (mostly grainy and poorly exposed and framed) of meetings of weavers and miniaturists. There are those landscapes we all shoot that later seem to be 'just another picture of rocks or ocean or mountains or fall leaves.' Time seems to drift around over the years while I do this but when I return from my reverie, today's clock has been ticking.

In the evening I suggest a trip to Fonda. FFP doesn't resist. There is another documentary in the film fest that I want to see but it's not showing until 9:40pm. So we wile away time over drinks and chips, apps and a shared entree. We make conversation with Lisa, our favorite waitress and other workers.

Then I do waste some time in front of the TV (where time disaappears into hour chunks of show and commercials) with some U.S. Open coverage while reading newspapers. Then I head for the movie, leaving way too early. In spite of overshooting the turnoff from S. Congress and having to turn around and go back, I'm way early. I talk to friends standing in line. I read while waiting for the movie. I feel sleepy in the movie but I only doze a couple of times.

At home I try to read and watch TV but I only fall asleep. Another day is spent and what do I have to show for it? Not much. But the time passed, nevertheless.

 

 

 

 

 

I felt good and strong today. But then I almost always do.