Went to the doctor’s this morning for my back, which still hurts although I can act human now, at an hour in the morning that seemed natural for her, but which I rarely see. Medications prescribed and bought, and I wait for the first one to take effect.
I wait quietly and gingerly, slightly stiffly in my chair. I rip a Beatles CD onto my hard drive.
The cats adjust to the new member of the household, and I ponder the blueberry tea in the pot… the medicine I have taken precludes anything stronger.
The evening light is going golden against the oak leaves outside the window. Why does the day seem so full? Why should it not seem so?
Playing: Help! from the album “Help!” by The Beatles
white pebble 