—and not much time left today. It’s late afternoon and I’m still not dressed because I haven’t had my swim yet. Or walk.

I do have a chicken bone broth in the pot, simmering all day. I cleared out the bones and vegetable parings in the freezer to make it. I have a pasta sauce augmented and also simmering. I have sent in my grocery order. Took a while, had to choose a later date for delivery. I think I forgot to eat lunch. No, I had an egg, cooked too long because I was doing HB eggs for a crabmeat wrap tomorrow or Sunday, and forgot it. Or was that breakfast?

I’m not finished yet.

I did finally swim. Swimming doesn’ t hurt as much as walking. I took a short walk, took out the compost and picked up the mail, ate dinner. I added some meatballs to the pasta sauce (made the other day with fresh tomatoes from a neighbour’s friend’s garden), with s glass of red wine. And pasta, of course. Too much.

I finally finished the Merlin series, wishing to be free of it, but now it’s over I miss it.

I’m having a nightcap now—a glass of milk—and hoping to sleep soon.

I can’t stand this. Can you?

My friend and former neighbour made a concerned and not entirely useful comment on yesterday’s blog, but more useful than he could have imagined. He said I should get off the bandwagon and take a break. Very indulgent, not what I deserve or need to do. I have been off, very off off off off the bandwagon. It’s time I climbed back on.

I have been streaming Netflix stories until my head ached and my eyes blurred and my sleep was torn to shreds. I couldn’t stop. I knew it was bad for me, that I had lost control but I couldn’t stop. Last night I wrote two orders in my diary in capital letters:

SWIM

WALK

This morning I swam; this afternoon I will walk. There’s another order:

DE-CLUTTER.

That’s my son John’s verb for what I must do with my files and papers. It’s the first step of a journey. I had to figure out a way to start. I did.

This morning after my swim and breakfast, I worked through a box of birthday and greeting cards and mementoes (notes and announcements) from my family and friends. I read every one of them and sorted them out. Very few went into the garbage. Most of them will stay with me. They won’t mean anything to the archivist at the University of Manitoba, which stores my “fonds”, nor to my children. They’re of no use to anyone but me. But they have given me the comfort and the encouragement I need to keep on keeping on.

They have even given me the incentive to write a new blog.

This is it.