A week is a man-made construct. There is not a natural, organic lapse of time that corresponds to a week. A day? Rise and set of the sun. A month? Watch the moon to come and go. A quarter? Feel the seasons come and go. A year? Feel the combination of how long the days last, how the seasons are much the same. If you want a really fine piece of time, take your pulse. But the week, it has no organic measurement. So when I say, “Oh man, I had a tough week,” I am referring to a man-made construct of time.
What a tough week I have had. And I am glad it is over.
It started with laying on my back and holding my breath. They warned me about a feeling of warmth flooding my body. It ended with a day of fasting, a warning that I would be unconscious and come back to life where I was getting the warning. From a CT scan to a colonoscopy it was a week of medical joys. And the dietary restrictions led me to days of reflection.
I like vegetables way too much to go three days without them. Where “vegetables” means things that are barely cooked, never canned, and delicious. All the meat I want? Keep it. I do not yearn for it the way I do for beans and fruits and all those tasty things.
The artificial time period is over. I am eating again. Yay!
The Art of Noticing has arrived. I decided to get copies of both books, the other bein Dunce, perhaps I will read them cover to cover now.
Spring has returned. In Oregon, in the Willamette Vally portion of Oregon, that means rain has returned. I do not get to mow the lawn that needs mowing. Shucky darn. I do not get to mow it for a while. I really like spring in Oregon.
— MichaelRpdx