mornings are cool

It’s Tuesday morning and I’m sleep deprived in El Cajon. Me and Lester Bangs, right? Just 23 minutes tooling east on the 8. I’ve got a rendevous with a womens’s clothing thrift shop at 9:30, here in El Cajon, and if The Talking Heads asked, “Well, how did I get here?”, the best I’ve got is, “Beats me.”

Ann was out early and I dawdled in the casa nueva. Did some yoga, checked on the Red Sox, ate some yogurt. Took a not so long walk which passed through the Hillcrest, Mission Hills, and Banker’s Hill neighborhoods. I believe I used the word ‘confluence’ yesterday, means even without the canceled MRI there’s evidence of some brain activity.

So, here I am, back home after women’s clothing was scratched and I punched the Camry back west on the 8 and north on the 15 and west on Aero Drive over to the work headquarters and got all the notes and time sheets and official stuff up to current. Then I drove back to the old last-week neighborhood to score lottery tickets and check the mail, and down to Walmart to buy organic eggs and veggies.

See what I mean?

Oh, I listened to a lot of both The Lovin’ Spoonful and Rancid too.