It always, always, takes longer.

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It doesn't matter if I am taking out the trash or setting up my medicines and supplements for two weeks, time simply evaporates. I wouldn't even say I am slow. While not a whiz-bang, especially with medicine, I probably move faster than 70% to 80% of the population, simply because I want it DONE! Even so...

I did the dishes, save the roasting pan. It is soaking. I did set up my medicine and supplements. I did check on wireless routers and settings, and read enough that I think I grokked it. That project, I suspect, regardless of my understanding and the instructions, both probably to turn out to be clear as mud no matter how well it looks at this point, will end up eating half a day. Then again, it might take as little at a few hours, maybe less. I have noticed, intellectually, I have an ebb and flow. At my peak I can damned near hit genius. No brag, just the facts. The thing is I only reach that peak at random times during a complete weekly or bi-weekly schedule, at best. I can, sometimes, cause that to occur by concentrating, if there are no guarantees. This takes up, perhaps, 3% to 7% of my waking time. About half of the rest of the time I run at about 60% to 90% capacity. The rest of the time I can hit the doldrums and run at 20% to 50% capacity. This is all... speculative, unscientific, guesstimating, but within reason. I wonder, with a repaired heart, if I could boost that?

Anyway, I got some of it but I have simply run out of time. I have actually stayed up too late doing what I did do. Oh well. Then again, there were a few token actions taken, jobs done, what have you. Little things which, being done, bring a small sparkle to my eyes. These take time, lead me off course, but are pleasant and worthy of their own accord. Time is a real humdinger though, and doesn't wait on me at all. So be it.

I merely need to do my exercises, brush and gargle, then climb into my well made bed. Gee I love getting into a made bed. I do. I can't tell you how much that tickles every part of my being. I have always wanted that, too. A clean home, clean dishes, clean laundry, no death smell, and more. I have company twice a week or more, people to pray with, the Eucharist on a very regular schedule, and I am also learning the rosary, finally. Not bad for a dead man walking, if you believe the doctors. And I am still a hot body. Many of the guys, during the KoC ceremonies, were dealing with being cold. I was nice and warm, too warm at times, and just in dress slacks, though with a t-shirt under my shirt and wool socks (but only one pair). One of them was bigger than I, in girth, and freezing, wearing a flannel shirt, t-shirt, and jeans. I am as dead as a blooming rose in spring. I did have my jacket, but took it off inside and it was too warm when I had it on but I didn't want to mess with carrying it.

I may be dark, but like a rose in spring, I am far from death.


I best get to bed, I have even more things to do tomorrow. The roaster and the cat litter. Ugh. Good night.