I woke before the alarm.

.
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I always like days like that. The alarm is a brutal tool, a necessary one at times. It just seems, even on days where I have slept enough and want to go and feel like going and make it out, being awaken by an alarm clock is like being shocked awake. I just remembered to turn it off so I won't hear it's nasty rudeness at all. And I feel pretty good. Today, for the most part, should be an easy one.

I have already torn into the dishes, put a load of laundry in the wash, and am fluffing some clothes I let set a bit long. In twenty minutes I will check all that. While up I will put bedding on the spare bed. As towels come up I will balance the towels in the second bathroom with those in mine, and put out a load of toilet paper in the second bathroom. Hopefully I can have the dishes done and the laundry as completed as possible by noon. Then a shower. As I dry, I have a few more hours to tinker on what I can do in the last hours before I go. I know I have done what I could, little as that was.

I think I have a small ice-chest somewhere. If I can find it, I will load it with some ice and soda. I am pretty sure my mom will be hungry. They no longer feed them on short flights, during meal times, as if that would really be good anyway. If I know her, and I do, she didn't eat on the way out. I have two places for her to choose. I am hoping to take her to Maddox on my way through or sometime before she returns, barring that the place I found last night has a number of delicacies that are right along the lines of food she understands. I have their number, so I can call on my way through and order pick-up, if that is what my mother prefers. That or tomato or chicken soup and a grilled cheese sandwich if she prefers to wait or isn't feeling all that well.

If her first day is mostly down and out, or first several, that is fine. I can slowly continue my efforts. I might be a cripple but I do try. I do everything I can do and them some, often. At least in my estimate. It might not be much. But in the end it isn't about what someone else can do. You are gauged on your ability. The world does gauge you on some norm, but the world is doomed and a silly place often anyway. I suppose my efforts are much like the widow's mite. Small in comparison to what others can and do give, but all I have. And I am rather cheery about it, quite happy to give. I just want to figure out how to give a bit more. The difference is, my efforts don't go to God. I never quite get to that point. But I have made an effort to try to do even that. I have never been contacted back. I will have to call about that.

Well, on to a bit of waking up while the clothes are refurbished and the dishes cool. Good day.