In order for me to keep my inherently widely disparate life somewhat organized, I observe fairly strict daily routines. One of them is, after a long walk with puppy Scampi, to reserve two hours late mornings Monday through Thursday to compose a post for this blog.

Another is to nap between 1 and 2 pm.

Another is to try to get 7 hours of sleep at night, going to bed between 8 and 9 pm.

I can usually keep the morning pattern. And the nap. But getting 7 hours of sleep? Last night, I woke up a total of five times, after only one or two hours. Each time I wake up (and pee) it takes time to fall back asleep, via listening to podcasts on my phone.

And here’s a confession: the podcasts that help me sleep these days fall under the label of True Crime. Can you believe?

Last night was bad, really bad. Though my body has energy, my brain feels toxic.

 

And this morning’s routine has been disrupted as well. After our 4-mile walk, I opened my computer, only to suddenly discover that I had to deal with a situation involving a credit card, my credit union, and reservations for three for Thanksgiving Dinner at a downtown restaurant: $241.06 altogether. In order to make the reservation in the first place, which I did over a week ago, I had to get on a platform other than the restaurant itself (opentable.com). But today, I was told that my credit union couldn’t accept the $241.06 from that credit card. And that I needed to either call or go down to the credit union to tell them before dealing again with the reservation.

What? I went down there, but forgot to bring the computer which had the notice on it. They couldn’t figure it out either. I came back here, and tried to go on that same Open Table platform (assuming that the reservations had somehow not gone through), and pay again, this time with a debit card from the credit union, but was told that I had already made reservations and paid for them at that time; do I want to make another three reservations? (Reservations cannot be adjusted or canceled on that platform.)

 

Well, I just about threw up my hands.

Or maybe I should have just thrown up my hands. Let technology go. Let this computer go. Let my credit and debit cards go. Let it all go.

But here I am, composing a (truncated) post after all.

 

For my 83rd birthday this year, I’m gifting myself three days (December 18-20) in the Inn and walking the trails of Turkey Run State Park, and will take with me not even my dog Scampi (who tends to be as nervous system dominated as I am), only my phone, and that to only be used on the trails (in case I fall and hurt myself), and even the phone will be left in the car when I’m not on the trails, but instead, in my room, reading a real, printed book, or downstairs, in the restaurant.

I’ve done this before, this screen fast. And it’s way past time to do it again.

One month to go . . . birthday is the 19th December, same day that 3IAtlas (whatever that is or isn’t) is supposedly predicted to make its closest approach to Earth.