Day Trip
What a nice surprise. Eight hours of sleep. All at once. Straight through. One tiny wake-up, I think, it may have been a dream. Feels like the old days. Go to bed, wake up to the alarm. Can I repeat the feat tonight? We shall see. No pressure. Maybe the training is starting to take hold. Who knew you had to train yourself to sleep? But I do. Start the decompression at nine. In bed by ten. Alarm at six. No blue screen 21st century electronics.
I think I’ll renew my license tag today. I could do it by mail or online, but the courthouse is just down the street. Maybe I’ll walk. It would be a nice way to spend part of a day, and that exercise might lead to another eight-hour night of sleep. I’ll get my mail on the way. It should be mostly junk, but it’s tax time so those documents ought to be showing up any day now. It will make me look professional, walking along carrying small envelopes, although I have no idea why I think that looks professional. It just feels as though it should, make me look professional.
And if I’m going to walk to the post office and then the courthouse, I could keep on going to the cemetery, for a visit with the wife. From house to post office to courthouse to plot, it’s probably just over a mile, and I should be able to walk a mile in these shoes because they have arch supports and were meant for walking, as opposed to my boots which are meant for riding no matter what Nancy Sinatra thinks. Now, if we only had a general store with a pickle barrel I could sit and visit with the other old men of the town.