Wednesday was okay. I had a lot of trouble speaking with my fellow dog walkers and when I came home, I went back to bed. I got up to read. I like this book a lot, too. It’s called, Toast: The Story of a Boy’s Hunger. It’s a light and lovely memoire about a boy a lot like I was—sensitive, afraid of his father, sickly and one who lost his mother at the same age as I did.
The best part of a dull day was the sun coming out late in the afternoon.
I notice Amazon Prime has a movie on it called Toast. It’s a movie adapted from the memoire that I’m reading by Nigel Slater and thoroughly enjoying. I plan to watch the movie to see how it compares to the novel.
I recently watched The Go Between, a movie on Kanopy or Netflix (I can’t remember). I absolutely loved the novel, so I decided to watch it. It told a story about which I had forgotten a lot, and the settings of the film were much different than my memory of the story and the images it conjured in my imagination. I liked the movie but not as much as the book.
DR phoned me yesterday. My God, it was rough speaking to her on the phone. But over time, my speech got better—not great, but much better than at the beginning of the call.
Tomorrow, I register for an appointment for a vaccine—if I can get through on the line. I’m hoping that once vaccinated and with the coming good weather, that my condition improves somewhat. It never ever occurred to me that my condition would worsen. I thought it would get better. I’m scared that it’ll get even worse. I doubt it will; I hope it won’t.
Wait … good news…I could get words out to Sheba late this morning. I crack in the wall.
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