As I have aged, I have settled into certain patterns of daily habits. I get up, get ready (i.e. The Temptations) and if it is a workday, walk to the office in a certain manner (crossing 20th Street at Hampshire, 19th & York as a set, and finally 18th before proceeding to Mariposa and the front door to KQED.)
I greet almost everyone I pass ("Good Morning") but most people don't answer, because they have earbugs in and can't hear me.
I speak softly anyway, so I am used to being unheard.
On a weekend, like this one, I wake up very early. Today I doing my laundry and have already taken out the trash and moved the bins to the curb.
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One habit I have been hoping to re-cultivate is working on my memoir. But so far, that isn't happening. I am discouraged about telling my story. I am worried about money and am also probably growing a bit lazy.
Writing is work. I have been working at least part-time for 61 years.
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