I awoke in the morning hours long before the sun rises by the sound of the toilet running. It was loud, as it is when you first pour water into any empty container. That's when I knew that the seal in the tank was letting the water leak out and when it was empty, it would start to fill with water again. Mystery solved, I guess that's a relief? Not really, just another thing to add to my To Do list. I got up and turned the water to the toilet off.
Sometime later, Poppy got up and started pacing around the house, her toenails clicking on the hardwood floors. When you are trying to sleep, every noise seems to be amplified and her toenail noise sounded unnaturally loud. I got up and let her out in the backyard, but this only satisfied her for a short time. What I'm trying to say is, I didn't sleep very well, this is only the beginning. When I did finally get up for the day, it was 9:30 and although I felt I finally got rest, it came with a huge price tag. Guilt. Guilt for sleeping so late and then, the self loathing, a common theme for me.
I go for a jog and let all that go. I remember to be appreciative. I welcome this, like a friend I haven't seen in a long time. Then I start in on my unproductive day, that's how I judge it, but really, I am pretty focused. Other than getting sidetracked with doing research on the history of police matrons in the United States and what New Jersey shore towns had wooden roller coasters in the 1930s, I am on task, things just take time, more time than I ever seem to be able to wrap my mind around. In the evening, Poppy and I walk to Anza Plaza park, where I photograph some of the views and she plays with new dogs, but I am not thrilled with any of the images I get, they are just snapshots, boring. But I catch a few on our walk that I like better, the long shadows on the sidewalk, just a few blocks from our house. It amazes me, that I walk all the way to another neighborhood in hopes of a nice photograph and the one I like best is only three blocks from my house.