I didn't visit my mother yesterday. I wanted the afternoon. Needed. I get anxious many days as the time to go approaches. At three, I wonder if I have time to begin a project. Usually the answer is no. Yesterday there were things I wanted and needed to do. When the anxiety approached, I called and said I wouldn't be over. It's o.k. My cousin is staying with her. She keeps her busy. Still and all. . . .
So I developed some 4x5 color film. They came out well, at least the exposures and colors were good. The photos were less than meh. But with every bad shot on the 4x5 camera--any of them--I learn something. There is nothing that competes with practice and experience when it comes to these cameras. And so, nothing to show but lessons learned.
The other thing I needed to do was water the grass that had been dug up and put back. Those roots will need water to grow back into the soil, so I got with my hose to work. I will need to do this every day for awhile.
When everything was completed, I sat down on the deck and fretted that I hadn't gone to see my mother. I am no mama's boy, but I am an empath (which explains much about my shocking lack of success in life). I had a minute or two to burn, but it was already time to make dinner. First, an arugula salad eaten on the deck with a glass of wine. Then spinach and a cubed steak. Yea, I know, but they are quick to cook and low in fat. They are actually cut from top sirloin, so there is that.
Quick as a flash, dinner was made and consumed. The sun was sinking. It was time to read.
But I didn't. I looked at the clock and decided that it would be a nine o'clock bedtime. I poured a digestif. Sort of. Not really, but I call it that.
And sure as heck, I was in bed early. And I had the most disturbing dreams. After what felt like a full night of sleep, I woke up. It was one. I got up, had some water. . . but the rest of the night was much the same.
This morning I feel numb. Not an original thought, not an exciting idea. I feel a dull day lay before me.
Maybe it was the fault of breaking my routine. Rain Man, C.S. I have become extremely routinized. Getting out of town seems the only remedy. As soon as I can walk. . . .
But there is much to do around the house now. I will need to repaint the deck and the apartment stairs. I need to clean up the area around the deck and plant a new garden. I should repair and paint the fence. And, of course, the annual mulching is upon me. It all must be done, and I will probably do it. I just wish there were someone here to cheer me on, make me laugh, call me a hero.
"Would you like some water, honey?"
Yea, that would be nice. I'd probably sleep better, too.
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