Welcome to Thursday, September 8, 2022. It’s a cool morning. Sunrise gushed over the trees and houses in a gold rimmed splash at 6:43 AM. The other end comes at 7:33 PM. Temperature is 20 C with a 90 F high in the mid-afternoon. Our air is a lime green 27 on Purple, which makes it good to moderate for breathing. Fires are all still burning but containment is growing. It’s the weather patterns saving us from smoke in our valley.

That Ziopatch is already a frustrating addition. Trimming the house Ficus yesterday drew some sweating. That Zio was instantly ready to abandon my chest. Had to stop, dry off, press it back on, again, again. Wife ended up reinforcing it with skin tape for me. I’m considering staples.

Local rumors are circulating that a bobcat is eating cats in another neighborhood about half a mile away. Wasn’t enough that a cougar was said to be going after them on the north end of town, nor that bears and their cubs are all over the place, and people are complaining about aggressive deer. Now the bobcats are getting in on the action. At least the coyotes, wolves, and foxes are staying mellow. With all this going on, the raccoons and skunks are laying low.

Mom’s condition remains bad. Not a ruptured appendix but a lacerated one. No surgery because of other issues. Abdominal pain and bloated belly from retaining fluids. How much is from COVID and other? The doctors and nurses don’t know. She’s struggling to stand, walk, and breath. Three sisters live in Pittsburgh, where Mom resides. One can’t go to the hospital because she is COVID positive, so the other two take turns staying with Mom, talking with the medical staff and providing updates to the rest of us. I’ve decided to fly there tomorrow.

Flying there tomorrow needs there are some things I’ll need to do today. The Ziopatch’s presence means I need to do these things while it’s cool, which means this morning. So, my writing day is upended. Selfish of me to think of it that way. Those who write will understand the turmoil this change causes, upending my writing routine, which has already been upended for vacations this year. Yeah, poor, poor pity poor me. But I need to drop writing down the priority ladder, reorient, and move on.

Perversely, The Neuros have “You Make Me Feel Like Dancing” by Leo Sayer from, what, 1976, going round and round and round in my morning mental music stream. Equally perversely, they immediately started “Round and Round” by Ratt (1984) in my head when I typed that last sentence.

Neurons. What are you gonna do?

Stay positive and test negative. Need to chug some coffee so I can make some decisions, finalize plans, and move into action. Here’s the music. Hope it doesn’t get stuck in a loop in your head. Blame The Neurons if it does. Cheers