Thursday, October 8, 2026
My friend calls me early this morning asking if I would be willing to talk at Brown Bag Zen tomorrow, Friday, at noon. The scheduled speaker is suddenly not available. Within minutes I say yes. I am ready. I check my body and it is functioning pretty well. I can do this. Last week I could not but this week I can.
The nurse squeezes water into my ear again this week and more wax comes out. She looks into the ear and proclaims my ear drums are now visible. Success at last.
As hard as I try to be on time for appointments, it never works. I am always early. So, I spend time in waiting rooms. Yesterday I listen to three people talking on their cell phones, business calls. Complicated financial information being thrown about. They are careful to not let on where they are. Working at home is also working in the waiting room. I love it.
Early morning fog and now the sun is out. Perfect fall day. I am back to reading THE ACCORDIONIST’S SON, a Basque novel by Bernardo Atxaga. I am intrigued with this book and yet I keep putting aside. I am determined to finish it. In the evening, we watch another episode of SLOW HORSES and LUDWIG. I have collected all the information I need to vote and now I am ready to fill out the complicated ballot. I feel too good to write about the corrupt president today.