At least I practiced

 For someone who might be sick, I did a lot of running around yesterday. This makes me very disinclined to do anything more than I need to today. I can try to get covid test kits at Walmart tomorrow. 

I dug out things that had sold, that I need to ship, last night. And got 15 things all ready to list. 

At least I practiced for almost an hour. Free buzzing has been very helpful as I've never picked up the horn to practice after not practicing for so long and been able to play high notes so easily - or at all. 

I have to keep in mind that trumpet will be my job once I'm done working here. And I may not get to choose when I'm done here. Things could come to an abrupt end if something happens to Ken, or if the economy does another 2008 type crash. 

I photo'd 15 things, then packed 11 from small to very large, and took them to the post office and FedEx. There were three weird guys today. The first, outside FedEx, as I rode up, said something like "Heyyyyy buddy!" with a big smile and I was trying to think where we might know each other from, and failed. So I just ignored him and that was that. 

The second one was in the parking lot by Iconic Eyes, where I go to check the trash of the gym there for boxes and other useful things. I was riding along and this guy strides along and make a gesture - twice - like he was going to grab my bike handlebar and give it a yank. Ohh, OK, I thought. The third one was hanging out in the parking lot here in front of the end unit, a Mexican guy. He sees me coming up and says "Eh, Papi" and some other stuff I didn't catch. Sounded friendly, just kinda weird. He watched as I pulled up here, put the load and trailer and bike away, and went in. I'm all for friendly neighbors so I'll give him a wave or something if I see him again. 

I feel a bit better than yesterday, but if for no other reason, I feel crappy because I'm tapering off of the wine. It's just not worth it, the anxiety, the sweats, and the *expense*. The expense I can really live without. So I'm drinking a mixture of a little wine, a little diet 7-UP, a lot of water and some ice that's about 2% alcohol. 

This is yet another reason the idea I once had to retire in New Orleans and be a professional busker is a stupid one. There's an old song about the "Big Rock Candy Mountain" about a hobo's idea of heaven, with things like cigarette trees and the handouts (food) grow on bushes, and little trickles of alcohol run down the rocks and so on. Well, in New Orleans from what I've read, it's pretty easy to find enough discarded drinks to get 3 sheets to the wind each night, same probably goes for dropped cigarettes and "snipes". Plenty of food left out, discarded, given out, etc. And apparently drugs from "soft" to as hard as you please are quite available too. 

Of course according to "Panther Hawaii" who had a blog I used to read, one can live that way in Hawaii especially around Waikiki, too. And it may be in Tel Aviv as far as that goes. But it seems to be especially pronounced in New Orleans. The fun, friendly, murder capitol of the USA. 

Today's freebees BTW were 3 packages of ramen (good stuff I made a wonderful fish soup with tonight) that can be presumed to be kosher, an onion, and two bags of frozen lobster balls I dropped off at Tom's. The fish soup was the best fish soup I've made yet.