The value of writing things down, and "Murphy on the job"...

I started something of a separate health diary on the day I started chemo, the idea being to track how I felt overall, along with my weight, blood pressure, how well I slept, and any anomalies that might be attributed to side effects of the chemo.

When the time came to go to New York, I weighed the utility of taking the notebook with me, and decided against it. (Once, a long time ago, I came within a hair's breadth of losing my paper-based Franklin planner, which "only" contained business information; this recent diary is a lot more personal.)

So, despite attempting to keep up the habit with my Midori Traveler's Notebook, upon my return, I sort of fell out of the habit, which—among other things—caused me to miss a dose of the chemo at the very end of the second bottle, I think.

Long live notebooks!

* * *
I got up early and after a couple of hours, decided to take another load of stuff over to the other house. Just as I took my first steps down the stairs from the second floor carrying a box, there came the unmistakable sound of rain.

I think Murphy is telling me to get back to work.

Cheers...

No way... way!

Given all the work on my plate, by all rights, I should not have entertained the slightest notion of taking the time to haul stuff to the other house, but today, I managed to do exactly that. Twice!

You may well ask, "Doesn't this guy have deadlines?"

I do. Most of them self-imposed. Those that are imposed from without I meet like clockwork, except for one client who lets me slide when I'm late, which annoys the heck out of me, on the one hand, but which I am grateful for, on the other.

That's another data point that points toward where I ought to be heading, by the way. Further deponent saith not, for now.

Cheers...