I had almost forgotten about this morning’s scheduled bloodwork. Age and past illness and mortality once again conspire to intrude on my obliviousness to the inevitability of reality. As if that is not enough, my own thought processes are battling with one another over being too serious versus not serious enough; too carefree versus too bureaucratically rigid.

Sometimes, it behooves me to restrict my fingers’ movement; to remain silent rather than ventilate by giving them free rein. Now is such a moment. And so off I go to prepare for a day that has the potential to be either pleasant or not, as do all days.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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