Sunny, And In The 60's

It's a Tuesday, and close enough to Mardi Gras, to increase the number of tourists out there by multiples of normal Tuesday traffic.

I almost went out yesterday afternoon. I could have been playing by 4 p.m. had I left at the time I almost did. The temperature was 57 degrees and was only forecast to go down to 50 by midnight.

I planned upon playing from, say, 4 o' clock until it got dark at about 6:15 o' clock. Then, I would see if I had made enough to spring for a set of batteries for the amp, in order to amplify myself then maybe continue on into the night.

I didn't feel 100 percent, though. Even though I know that the quickest way to get to feeling 100 percent is to busk my way out of the malaise. Resting at home might take 5 times as long to recover, compared to using the adrenaline of playing, and the interactions with people as a catalyst.

But, I decided to do 3 rounds of Wim Hof's breathing exercises, which had me feeling much better; though I was still kind of fatigued from the interrupted sleep I had gotten, full of very weird dreams; in one of which I was dreaming I had coronavirus, and then waking up feeling like I was coming down with something.

Yesterday's post was sort of like flushing everything out of my brain.

I'm not used to waking up at 4 in the morning and then trying to be ready to go out an busk 15 hours later, after being up that amount of time. It certainly doesn't leave any room for any energy draining activities.

The uncluttering thing is progressing along; next I might attack my pile of clothing and get rid of things I haven't worn in over a year.

By about 9 in the evening, the 54 degrees that it was, felt colder because of a breeze, and Harold was at the back door, so I let him in; then thought that I didn't have any food for him.

I did have a large pot that I had steamed some catfish along with kale in, the night before, in the refrigerator. There were still chunks of catfish in there, but it was steeped in kale juice.

Harold tore into the fish, devouring it in its entirety, then licked the plate. Who knew that a cat would love catfish, I thought?

I'm pretty sure the fish got its name from the catlike whiskers on its head.

Harold always liked any cat food that had greens in it. These are usually labelled as "indoor cat" food. The idea is that they are putting in the greens that the indoor cat can't get.

But, I observed that one of the reasons Harold likes to go outside so much, is to eat greens; and so I tried the indoor stuff on him, and he loved it.

They should really label the food "for indoor cats; and cats that love to go outside because of all the greens out there."

So, Harold filled up on the catfish steeped in steamed kale juice; and I was able to rest more easily and didn't have to ride up to Rouses Market and back.

Today is forecast to be sunny and in the mid 60's.

I think blogging is one of the things that might sap some of my busking energy; so I'm going to stop here...