Check, check, check

Am I hearing all of this right? Check, check, check.

Can I cross "writing" off my new task sheet, listing the activities, therapies, meditation, exercise and medications? Check, check, check.

Am I writing again like I did earlier in this blog, nonsensical, stream of consciousness, bare and revealed? Check, check, check.

Am I spending our retirement money, front-end loading the out flow of funds, trusting that I'll be healthy enough, peaceful enough to endure what ever indignities the passing years confer on me. Check, check, give me the check.

Am I hearing all of this right? Are my hearing aids working to improve my attentiveness, eliminate the undercurrent of frustration that plagued me unawares for years, pulling into my soundscape at last those elusive bird songs heard by the rest of the crew, by my dead friend Curt who urged me to look into hearing aids, who put his in one of my ears at the Black Forest Inn, bringing tears to my ears, but I didn't take the step until weeks after his premature death. Thank you Curt, and check, check, check. 

My checklist says that for this week, I should write for 30 minutes a day. I have a sliver of time before going out to dinner with friends, so I am fitting in this work. I don't want to stop. I think that is a good sign.  I think the clatter is going to drive Carolyn nuts. I will replace this laptop and hope for a quieter keyboard, because I think this is going to be a happy, regular thing.  Check, check, check.