Today turned into another marathon FarmTown day. I wrote a longish email to a friend. Cooked fried chicken (Pogo sleeps soundly right now, stuffed to the gills. His tail moving in time to some dream he has.). And washed the dishes (cooking the chicken made more dishes to wash. Tomorrow, right?).
I cancelled the appointment with my heart doctor for tomorrow. The receptionist rescheduled it for the same day as my appointment with Doc. I like getting them both over with on the same day, although it will be a long one.
One more Tyvaso treatment and some pills and I will be off to bed. I feel like I need extra sleep.
Do men more than women have a yearning to leave a legacy? Something tangible that proves they lived? I suppose we all want others to remember us. But after the ones who remember us after we are gone are gone themselves, then it matters not we were here. Unless, of course, you are Abraham Lincoln or William Faulkner. They hang around a little longer, but eventually they give way to the dust of history on some forgotten shelf. A tiny footnote in the millenniums.
OK, Dude. We will make it happen.
Later.
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