For a day that started with me nearly skidding on a pile that Tupelo had not managed to get to the litter box to deposit, it wasn’t bad. I mean, you’d think, if you were the superstitious type, that that did not portend well. Especially that, in the next step, I almost stepped in the vomit he had shared. But c’mon, he is an old, old man, deserving of all respect and patience, so I just cleaned it up and made coffee. And a lot of the day was mellow and fun.
It’s a long long walk from the G station to the studio. And it was bitterly bitterly cold. It was quiet when I got in, but, as the hours wore on, things got much more intense. Or so it seemed to me, but my production stress muscles are a little flabby. I started to get wound up, but remembered that any upset was unlikely to yield good, measured decisions.
Well, I am really too burnt out to go on at the length I had hoped. But getting back up to speed is not going to be instantaneous. I treated myself to pizza and a bit of red wine and relaxed and instead of working, I am going to hit the hay soonish.
I don't know the exact name of this place but it will take a better photo. It is a home for old ladies. For true.