Monday Another Quiet One

I rose late on Monday and slept until 8, with only a few waking, looking at the clock, and falling back asleep. All day, I dragged and went slow. I started nothing except the daily blog, even reheating leftovers for lunch. Monday had no plans, and I treated it as a free day for PJs until after 1, when I tried to enjoy going slow. The AI monthly meeting has moved to Tuesday, so nothing is on Monday.

This morning, coffee was a need, not just a beverage. I also had a terrible lack of focus; my mind was a moth circling flames of things I should do, but I did not want to be burned and actually do the thing. I did little on Monday; no guilt. While not a gateway drug, coffee was my gateway to getting anything done. I woke up enough to finish the blog (spending plenty of time on texts and calls), do one load of laundry, not put it away, and ignore the growing pile of dishes. I also enjoyed the political news (the polls are now taking a liberal swing) and counting down for the election; news from NC was mixed–family is safe and in camping mode, but the western NC water system is gone.

I drink deep liberal coffee from my French Press, dreaming of a better world in every cup. I don’t dream of a Lovecraftian world of strangeness and stories or sword-wielding and spell casting (but that would be cool), but a new world, much like the current one, with justice, compassion, and kind communities being the focus. I am not looking for a Hollywood Revelations-style destruction of sinners and for the old earth to pass away, but for the world’s awakening (i.e., woke) to the possibilities (from Douglas Adams) of being nice to each other.

I have oatmeal again to go with the coffee. But I am a moth bouncing here and there all day, even with the caffeine (I just bounce faster). I rewatched the “Lord of the Rings: Rings of Power” season conclusion, and now that I know what to expect, I really enjoyed the sword fights and the resolution of some of the stories. They continued with some of the less exciting stories for the next season. I still like it.

I read and am tired still. I am surprised by how close the book and the TV show match for Slow Horses, and I nod off and sleep for thirty minutes. That with all the coffee. Yes, I did overdo it last week. The early mornings, the short sleep, and the social butterfly-ing all had a cost.

Tired of this, I head to Hillsboro, tour the Old Town, and get more steps in, 4,700+ for the day. I searched the antique stores (Deborah asked me about them, and I would think they are more like thrift stores but with older stuff) for things I needed but did not know I needed. A dangerous thing to do, but f**k, I am tired of being tired (re-tired?). The better store, Le Stuff, had things that got my attention but had little use, and I avoid furniture purchases, as I have enough (even when it is cheap and well made–resist!). I also resist all clocks. I learned that the metal, mostly brass, wears, and complex repairs are often required. I am not starting a new hobby/business: fixing mechanical clocks.

The rundown and slightly smelly Sniders Hill Theater Antique Mall (with uneven floors and difficult stairs to balconies now stuffed with old stuff) often provides me with desirable items. I found a cigar box with a locking lid made of wood for five bucks. All my leftover and replaced gaming pieces now reside in the box instead of bags stuffed here and there. Excellent. A $12 bottle of “Dr. White’s Dandelion Alternative” reproduction joins my Call of Cthulhu props. Lastly, a slightly worn copy of Julis Child’s cookbook for $25 (no shipping or sales tax in Oregon) is added to my collection of cookbooks. I always wanted to read her comments in the anniversary edition. Excellent.

Aside: Corwin always laughs when he recalls me saying, “How many feet of cookbooks do you think we need.”

I also found a collection of plastic horse models that my sister once collected. Being the loving brother I am, I sent her a picture of her toys, now considered antiques, and got an appropriate response. It was rather profane.

One of the questions I wonder about is how often the stuff changes in these stores. I looked at how my memory compared with the current contents and concluded that less than half the stuff was replaced, but much had changed. I hope that is sales and not replacements; however, I fear for our society if we consume half the antiques in three months. Our homes will be exploding with stuff.

I called Corwin, and he agreed to meet me in Hillsboro for an early dinner (the town all but rolls up the sidewalks when the sun goes down). I continued to wander. I saw a police officer from the Washinton County Sheriff’s patrol head to a person. They were passed out in a wheelchair in the park around the courthouse and looked in distress. The officer woke them up, stayed with them, and waited for help.

I sit on a bench, admire the redwoods, and try to remember my first aid. I am no longer certified and should take a refresher class once I am a year out from my brain surgery. Now, it is best I just stay out of the way. The event seems to be resolved. I see Corwin in his truck, and we will meet soon.

I suggest The High Ground, a funny name for a roof bar that overlooks the Washington County Courthouse. So yes, we take The High Ground and have locally made beer. We share an insane appetizer of Buffalo tater tots with blue cheese and Buffalo sauce. The view was excellent, and we enjoyed dinner: me, a salad, and Corwin with a burger and extra paddy. Corwin still is disappointed that his recent bout of COVID-19 has cost him weight. He is a weight lifter and wants the weight. We dream that someday we will cross numbers with me below Corwin’s.

Corwin is now mixing and sampling sound into what I would call Electronica music. I gave Corwin a spare pair of high-quality noise-reducing headphones. With the headphones providing a new level of fidelity, Corwin is enjoying a more complex mix.

We walk back to Air Volvo, board, and Air Volvo drops Corwin at his truck. I return to The Volvo Cave, a short trip from Hillsboro, and relax. I do not do the dishes or put away the dishes and load the dirty ones. I read, rest, and recharge (Maybe the three new Rs).

I shower and get in my PJs as the house turns to pro-Orchid night temperatures. I am sensitive to cold now (chemo), and my feet feel cold (but are not—part of the chemo stuff), but I finally sleep. I dream, all forgotten now, and wake a few times stupidly early and stumble my way to prove hydration. I never sleep for more than a few hours but still rise on Tuesday refreshed.

Thanks for reading.