Beats Down and Up.

I used to be anything but a hypochondriac. Quite the reverse; I was the eternal optimist. No matter what the condition, I would go on for months or even years in the constant expectation that whatever it was would cure itself eventually and that tomorrow was a permanent state. Now the polarity seems to be reversing.

It’s all these intimations of mortality that are doing it. Every time I get a pain, or cough just once, I start planning what I need to do before the big day arrives. And being waved at by HT54 again didn’t help. If ever I do get shown the red card, I really must have a word with HT54 if a haunting is to be avoided.

And the antibiotics I just finished didn’t help either; they didn’t work. At least, the condition they were supposed to eradicate remains more or less unchanged, which might or might not amount to the same thing. So today I managed to speak to the lovely doctor Helen and she fixed me up with a different recipe. I do hope they work this time; I would so like to send her a note saying:

Deer docter Helen

Thank yoo for mendin my porly tow. Your a jeenius.

*  *  *

And on the upbeat, here’s a detail from a postcard I picked up when I went to Ireland once, and which I particularly like. It says a lot about why the Irish are instinctive musicians.

  

And here’s another which I like even more.

  

*  *  *

Still on the upbeat, I rescued a wasp from drowning today. It was in the birds’ water bowl and looked for all the world a goner, but I lifted it out and it recovered. The little guy did have a tomorrow after all. I watched it pulling itself together for quite some time and decided that wasps are actually quite handsome creatures. So now I like wasps. That’s nice.