Dear Diary...

Today was like tomorrow, and all other lonely days I spend here. It gives great pause for deep introspection, and I am getting pretty good at that. I started with easy hospital rounds. A 33 yr old man with pericarditis and a 70 yr old former nurse with bipolar disorder who loves me made for a nice distraction. Done before 10 AM, the lawn didn't need much work, but I groomed it once again. I limited my prison time by finally filing my taxes; Sinatra seemed right in the background, and even tho at times he can sound awful, it was the right mood for the task. At least yesterday I learned from the business accountant that our firm is doing quite well, despite the economy. Who knows what's going to happen with Obama-care, so I plan to run with this golden goose as long as she will hang. If nothing else, I got a new boat out of the deal. Last nite haunts me a bit. I have this new uneasiness that enough is enough. I'll see how it plays out tho. I wish I had the wit and edge of Maureen Dowd, and I could convey the topic much more interestingly. Anyway, she'd probably be jealous, or at least have a cool snarky take on the whole thing. In sports news, a guy at the Sawyer triathlon in Louisville got killed today on the bike, and Michael Phelps smacked down the crazy eastern European. I've done that tri, and this is an awful story. He was on a road I've biked many, many times before. Maybe I feel especially down because I miss that, and because I promised to race the event with a new friend, but I just didn't. Hot Lucy served me another great burger at the marina, and I felt like getting on the boat. I had my camera and Kindle and for about an hour I was glad I'm in Appalachia. No morbidly obese, no edentulous 35 yr old females, no mullets, just me and the lake.

I hope tomorrow is the same.