Diary.

July 4, 2016

I have nothing to say, I say, saying it.  Of course, it’s raining, or starting to.  I could look up the National Weather Service to see if we are under any alerts or warnings.  My energy is low.  Almost too low to write anything.

July 5, 2016 @ 0130

I’ve been awake an hour, finally ate a medium-size dish of vanilla ice cream.  I believe this is totally because of medicine I take, an antipsychotic with a side effect of increase in appetite.  I feel exhausted.  Going back to bed.  Proud of myself for having written anything so far.

Later today I face a difficult day of work.  Mondays in a pharmacy are apt to be busy, but this is a Tuesday after a three-day weekend at the beginning of the month.  My strategy today is to crank out the work steadily and not allow myself to panic.

July 6, 2016 @0211

Feeling much better.  Worked about 9 hours yesterday standing at the pharmacy filling prescriptions, mostly.  This made my left lower leg and feet ache.  Oh yes, and my lower back.  Wow.  Took some Aleve without very much relief.  After supper, which Penny made, I went directly to bath and bed, slept soundly until now.  I’m staking everything on writing my book about Bud.  I need to work the story into a unified whole and I need an editor.  I hope to finish telling about his early life in great detail, his short military career in exquisite detail, his final 48 hours in fine detail.

After that, I want to tell the story of how I came to know a man who died about four years and four months before I was born nearly 70 years ago.  Is this time travel?  No.  Or yes.

If I could go back in time I’d meet my uncle in London in 1944 just to make sure he experienced the thrill of sexual intercourse at least once before he died.