Countdown

18 days of work to go.  Not handling it consistently well, either.  About what?  Pretty much what you'd expect.  Do I have enough money (probably not) and what if I run out.  Sometimes I feel like I have enough going on that I won't miss the old job, except every other Thursday when the paycheck no longer gets direct-deposited.  My last planned splurge was a Steely Dan t-shirt, high-priced to begin with, and larded with a heavy shipping-and-handling fee before tax.  But the 1996 Art Crimes shirt is worn out, and the 2003 shirt from the Borgata concert is showing its age as well.  

But I have my essentials:  someone to love, something to do, and something to look forward to.  Even the virus that laid me low for a few weeks has receded, leaving only an occasional hacking cough.  

Just for my memory, here's the day in a few words:  woke up alone at around 7:30.  PG had already gone downstairs.  I reported for work, booting up and logging in, then walked downstairs for a bowl of cereal and glass of juice.  The workday started slowly and by noon, I had showered, dressed and was ready to drive to Wegmans.  We got everything on the list and took it home, then I made a sandwich, poured a glass of lemonade with seltzer, picked out a half-dozen small pretzels, and went back to work.

Several more hours passed.  I had a bowl of chili for supper, and after that a small serving of homemade vanilla pudding with the last of the canned whipped cream.  Reclined in the recliner and listened to part of Kaleidoscope (subject:  the radio Green Hornet) before Mike Whorf's voice made me nod off.  Watched 15 minutes of "Madison Avenue" and the 15-minute Seinfeld speech at Duke.  Then went upstairs to practice.  

There, short but with enough detail to be interesting to me somewhere down the road.