But watch out for potholes.

I rose, not with alacrity but with purpose. I swam and exercised, dressed and ate breakfast (soft-boiled egg), I wrote a cheque and a note to my friend in Stratford who is planting geraniums on Bill’s grave for the third year running., bless her. She has no more strength than I have but she is a model of self-discipline. Out of respect for her I found a stamp and an envelope and wrote a very brief note and—here’s the good part— I took it to the mailbox—with the cheque in it and a couple of bookmarks. Wow.

First time out of the building to walk, in I don’t know how many weeks. My pain augments and forgives my laziness.

I intend to go through more files today. But I have to have a nap first. My brain doesn’t hurt but other parts do.

Consider this blog a document of old age, blow by blow—or blog by blog?