the ordinary

Last night I sat in this chair watching the sun go down and now here i am, waiting for it to come up. The only difference is the beverage. Even though Billy at the liquor store tells me that sauvignon blanc would make a great breakfast wine with its citrus tones, I think I'll stick to coffee in the morning.

I heated a cup of yesterday's coffee in the microwave, waiting for the inspiration to make a new pot. Gus is taking his first nap of the day on the couch. I love that dog. A nap before 6 am is a thing to be admired.

Yesterday I cleaned my cool mist humidifier. Who knew that thing could produce microorganisms that smell like old gym socks? I found, and read, the instruction manual which was helpful. It only took me a month to get that done.

I love the smell of cinnamon all the time but this winter there seems to be something sublime about it. Whenever I open the cabinet and get a whiff of it, I have to search out the bag and inhale deeply. Ah, cinnamon. You make such wonderful toast.

This morning, my legs ache. It could be a coincidence as they have hurt in my life before cancer but now I am hyper-vigilant about side effects and this could be one. Usually when people ask how I am, I say fine fine fine, feeling better... because who wants to hear this litany of minor complaints? If I were someone else, I'd avoid talking to me if I did that.

I saw in the local paper this morning that they had a Valentine's Day king and queen at one of the nursing homes. That is perverse. Even in your dotage, you can't escape those popularity contests that force you to wear a paper crown. My friend, Jane, has one criterion for a nursing home: If they make you play Cootie for bananas, she is not going there. I'm sure she'd feel the same about the king and queen thing.

I looked at all the papers this morning. The local one, the regional one, and the state one. The further out you go, the worse the news is. I suppose if you publish something every day, you have to come up with some crap for people to read so they feel they're getting their money's worth. I won't make that mistake again for a while.

My google calendar sends me my agenda every morning about this time. Today it says I have no events scheduled. To call what I do every day an agenda and the things I do events is a stretch. A funny stretch, but a stretch just the same.

You would think that a calendar that emails me reminders of my events would keep me from forgetting to do things...but it doesn't.

I'm reading a book of historical fiction called The Bloodletter's Daughter. It's marginal and readable but not compelling. Maybe I'm just not in the mood for a book about obsession and madness right now.

We've watched two episodes of Sherlock, a modern version of Sherlock Holmes where Holmes and Watson solve crimes in 21st century London. It's very entertaining. The actor who plays Holmes is Bendedict Cumberbatch which is a name for an actor if I ever heard one. I've done an OD on Sherlock Holmes this winter...two movies, two tv episodes, and many of the original stories by Arthur Conan Doyle.

I love Sherlock's trench coat. It's a good look with boots. I read that BBC doesn't usually influence men's fashions but this coat has the Brits drooling.

I don't have much for plans today, let alone an agenda. Do the dishes. Dust the bookshelves in the living room. Finish the grocery list. And my ever-present agenda item: take a nap.