Dad, are you there?

Had a strange dream last night. My dad, who is now in a very diminished state in an alzheimer's facility in the Central Valley, was driving me around in a big s.u.v.. He dropped me off in a little town someplace. I was lost. Wandering through parking garages, if I remember correctly now through the haze of being awake.

I searched for him for a long time, but then when I finally found him he wouldn't (couldn't) tell me where I could find the car. Dad clearly wasn't in his right mind. I got angrier and angrier but couldn't get though to him, finally woke up.

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My handwriting is suffering horribly, has been for some time. Laboring through m's, n's and r's, sometimes adding extra loops and humps. Printing is still fine but my brain is outpacing my motor skill at present writing cursively. Have I had a little stroke? If I speed up fast enough I can still almost catch my old flow but I am honestly starting to write like an old man. Leslie noticed it last week too. All other cognitive functions seem fine.

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Two near catastrophes this week. A tungsten light too close to my lightbox started a chair smoldering. Lucky I caught it, just in time. Second one is a secret.

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Allergies are up, as is a seasonal asthma condition. Really been wheezing. Thankfully a friend lent me an inhaler.

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Have flown into an uncharacteristic rage three times this month. Somebody asked if I was bi-polar. Just sick of talking politics I think but I promise not to bang on the table at the coffee shop again.

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After months of pushing it, periods of extreme productivity, I have little or no desire to work. Need to work financially but my brain and body are forcing me to take the foot off the pedal and I am listening, oddly. Will all get hairy again soon enough. A person can't live in a state of constant acceleration. Forever anyway.