Today is Different

Today was to have been a normal Tuesday, starting with breakfast at Debra’s diner with the woodworkers, followed by a few hours of making sawdust. But map dot fingerprint dystrophy (a condition in which the surface of the eye is dry and “cracked” to look like fingerprints), or what I believe to be map dot fingerprint dystrophy, persuaded me to forego the making of sawdust, which would have made breakfast at Debra’s a prelude to nothing. So, instead, I cooked breakfast, the usual, for my wife.  Turkey bacon, egg substitute, tomato juice, and half a mandarin (the latter two which remained uncooked).

The ophthalmologist recommended to me by a couple of Village people (woodworkers in the group) had no available slots on his calendar until February, when I called a few weeks ago.  So, instead of searching for an alternate doctor, I stewed over it for a while, wondering who to see in his place.  To date, I have not found an alternate, which is to say I have not searched for an alternate.  That is a very stupid approach to personal healthcare.  I will correct that this morning.  If I do not find a suitable alternate, I will simply make an appointment with said recommended doctor (Braun) whenever an appointment is available.

Had I not make a huge batch of lentil soup last night, I might have used the unexpected freedom from woodworking this morning to do that.  But, since I have a big stock pot full of lentil soup sitting in the fridge, it would be pointless to make another, only to find there’s no room for it in the fridge because the room has been taken by another pot, the one I made last night.  Instead, after I make a few calls to local ophthalmologists, I may go for a walk up the hill and around the water tank and beyond.  Or I may not.

Quite probably, I’ll make a trip to the National Park Community College store to buy some clay for my pottery class, which starts up again tomorrow morning.  And I may see if I can find a place called Coffee Love, a coffee shop that features writers reading their work on the fourth Tuesday of every month (the event is called Latte and Lit). The president of the writers’ club told me about it and suggested we visit on the 27th, which I agreed to do.  So, I want you to know that night is booked, in case you were planning on having me over for dinner that evening or were making plans which would involve my presence in London, Ontario.

About John Swinburn

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