Where to start

First, my new pillow is grand. If you have one you remember loving more, strip it down to its sad self and look for the name. Input that name to google, and you probably will be returned a lot of pristine pillow pictures and where to buy it. Do it, and like Debby did, buy a couple for the guest bed, too. You'll know where to find the next replacement.

I mentioned a trip to my doctor recently. It was the standard several months out follow-up on the Lasix business. She smilingly said "This could have been a phone consult," and I said absolutely not; I needed to test the transport program in the building. Things went well until she announced she heard diminished breathing sounds in one lung lobe, and hoped I would stop for a chest x-ray on the way out of the building.

Long story short, the films indicated a very new case of double pneumonia. And that suddenly accounted for the volume of phlegm I've dealt with daily for the last little while. Given my penicillin allergy, the doctor prescribed azithromycin. Fortunately it's a only five day regimen. The stuff is brutal. I'm beginning to realize there really isn't enough of me to handle some "cures".

On the plus side, I woke to no phlegm this morning. We're following up by phone next Wednesday, after my Tuesday Covid shot. Given my reaction to the first shot, the doctor sort of harassed me until I agreed to ask my sister to drive me this time, to be sure I arrived home and went to bed still awake.

The sun is shining more often than not this week; snow is melting and so is the ice.

My beautiful weeds reappear. The footprints become giant, my stepping stone to the shed peeks out. Could it be spring? It's nearly March and return to daylight savings time.

Tomorrow Laura comes for the afternoon. I can resume my normal parking stance, my tires exactly on the edge of the drive. Since the snow event, not only was there a foothill of snow there, there was an ice skating path under the driver's side door that I didn't dare step on.

The last thing of importance in my world, the amaryllis continues its inexorable journey. How fortunate to be green. 

But I almost forgot; the rose arrived at its destination, and pleased PamJ. She left us a note and sent me a picture.