Getting somewhere.

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A muscle headache, on waking, typical of cycle shifting.  Awake until after 17:00, as good as memory goes.  At least an half hour beyond, maybe several hours beyond. Short-term memory becomes as a mosquito finding itself on the windshield of a car at speed... minding it's own business, then spots an asshole it is sure it should recognize, then lights out.  Meds, anacine, a bit of reading, writing, gaming, and waking first.  Then new and old plans.

Old plans?  Paperwork and bills, a few added, new month.  New?  A leaf barrel, more bags, several rakes to try things, and a few pieces of hardware.  Leaves are back.  I want to give them a go.  I need to do dishes in the way, shower, shave, and such first.  Did I get better?  No, I don't think so.  A bit of sun the last few days, and a slight nudge from a netizen neighbor, which I will share.  Because friends do that.

I wish I could more truly share my dreams.  Not that I have fears, less so in the long run, if concerns for order and right chaos until balance must be surrendered to the war between those.  Attrition, in essence, of life against itself.  I still don't think... no, it is understood.  Hubris, pride really.  I remember my own hand in that.  I know how the story ends, the main one and mine.  The haggling, marshalling, war, and attempts at "peace", and all else must be endured, I finally see, for the hope of salvation for the largest number of souls.  It, at times, seems such a dreadful hope.  Then again so did homework... until the pop-quiz.

Back to waking.  Good morning, while I am at it.  Go get em'.