Positive Thinking

Before I go to sleep, among other things, I think about what I might do tomorrow.  I think positively about things I’d like to do, as if I had already done them.  I don’t think too much about specifics, after all, I am on the verge of sleep.

Last night, for example, I thought I have been neglecting my blog.  There are lots of things I’m ready to blog about.  Tomorrow I will post something on my blog.  Well, it’s tomorrow, and here it is.  It is nothing remotely close to what I had in mind last night.

I went for coffee this morning, like I do almost every morning. And, like I also do almost every morning, I smeared ink on the pages of one of the four journals dedicated to my grandchildren.  Often these coffee shop journal jottings are a draft for a blog post.  And this morning’s offering was promising.  So much so, I had an extra latté.

Back at the Cave, I didn’t rush to the computer and start writing.  I needed some time for ideas to foment and germinate.  During this germination period, I made my on-line chess and backgammon moves, and I successfully completed the daily solitaire challenge.

I was ready to start writing, but I am a procrastinator.  So I cleaned up yesterday’s dishes first.  When I finally got started, I felt something was amiss, but I didn’t know what.  I investigated like Sherlock Holmes.  I have four grandchildren, and I have a journal for each of them, that makes four journals.  One journal was on a shelf in the bookcase, another was on the table in the living room, one was in my office/studio/playroom, and one was missing.

I searched the Cave fruitlessly three times.  After coffee I often run errands.  The last time I recall having possession of the missing journal, I was using an ATM at Portage Place.  Did I leave the notebook at the ATM?  Did someone find it and turn it in?  I headed downtown to find out.

 On my way to the bus-stop I had a revelation.  A latté at Bar Italia is $4.75, if I have a five dollar bill, I leave the change for the barista.  This morning, for my second coffee, I put a ten dollar bill on the counter, and I walked away without my change.

If I did leave the journal at the ATM, no one turned it in.  Whoever finds it, I hope they find it interesting.  Forgetfulness, confusion, negligence in action.

Well, this is not what I planned to write, but after all, this blog is Notes on Senility.  And maybe I won’t have to pay for my coffee tomorrow.