The Schedule

A schedule makes it easier way to wait at home until you can move to a better home.

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8:00 A.M: I say today’s first prayer, then prepare a small breakfast for myself and Lady Tallahassee, and another day begins - on schedule. I sip my coffee from a large white cup of the sort favored by unhurried boulevardiers, sitting at charming small tables outside so many of the Parisian cafes I’ve seen in movies.

As I watch the morning call-in show on C-span. I reflect upon the woefully ill-informed comments of our nation’s concerned citizens. Occasionally, a caller will say something trenchant and wise. Down the hall I hear the soft thunder of tiny kitty paws at full gallop. Tally is at her morning exercise. A refreshing nap follows her exercise.

Now I take my guitar and change the T.V. to the Music Choice channels. I search through the videos for the least annoying and try to discover what might be played that would add to the music without confounding the music. Sometimes I succeed, even so, I learn as much from failing as I do from succeeding. This goes on until lunchtime.

Around here, lunchtime is referred to as second meal.

Meanwhile, Tally is rising from her morning nap.

12:00 P.M., I pray second prayer and prepare second meal. Second meal and third meal are about twice the size of first and fourth meal. First and fourth meals are more what most people would call snacks. Second, third and fourth meals are always accompanied by one beer, each. Then followed by two-fingers of whiskey. I sip the whiskey. Sometimes it lasts until next meal. Tally, with a polite meow, reminds me to get on with this meal.

I try to make all the meals nutritious and attractively plated. There is no one here but me so, you may ask, “Why bother with the plating. The reason is that I think all aspects of a meal are part of showing gratitude to God for the blessing of His providence – along with saying grace.

“Yes, yes” says Tally. Let’s eat!

In the afternoons the schedule may vary. Usually, I read, at times I write, but at least once a week I must re-supply: alcohol, bird food, squirrel food, groceries and anything else needed. From time-to-time other things also need doing. I try to do all of these between 12:00 A.M. and 4:00 P.M. On these busy days I forgo reading, writing and the whiskey. Fortunately, the busy days are few.

4:00 P.M., It’s time for third meal, and third payer. Tally shows up precisely on time. How she does this is mysterious. She doesn’t have so much as a wristwatch. The birds and the squirrels are just as punctual. They know the time of day better than most people.

After third meal I start a new whiskey and review the evening news shows. I flip from one to another to discover the spin each gives to the pitifully small amount of news in the news. The typical news show focuses relentlessly on the trivial, salacious, or pointless. Entertainment trumps information. I watch, anyway, for the few serious events that eventually get reported. This done, I check the T.V. programing guide for anything interesting: history, science, commentary, nature, a good movie (usually an old movie), anything that might enlighten or enrich either mind or soul. If I find nothing, I return to reading.

Books have been a solace to me for as long as I can remember. They have taken me to faraway places, to faraway centuries, to events and ideas that have made the world brighter and more interesting than it would have been otherwise. Old books are the best. Any book written before the 1960’s has more to offer that almost all the books written after.

Part of the reason for this is the calamitous downhill slide of our culture from the 60’s on. A larger reason is that the older books have withstood the test of time. Generation, after generation, have found them consistently worth the reading. That’s tells you more than any review from the New York Times.

8:00 P.M., I pray fourth prayer and prepare fourth meal.

This will be my last meal for the day, although Lady Tally will have a cordial in the form of a kitty treat before retiring for the evening. After fourth meal I will continue doing whatever I was doing before the meal, including one more whiskey.

11:00 P.M., Now I pray the longest and most inclusive prayer of the day.

Tally and I go to bed. Tally tucks herself under my arm and purrs. This is a trick of her own invention. The first time she did this enchanted me so much that I was afraid to move for fear of disturbing her. Finally, I had to roll over. She was not disturbed. She leaped lightly up and over to my other arm and repeated the performance, all night, as required. I imagine a lot of domestic problems might be mitigated if people could only learn to purr.

And so, another day ends; just like the day before… and the day before that… and the day before that… and so on.

Why do I do this?

Health is part of the answer. I have no fear of death, but I do fear illness. Being sick would create problems beyond the sickness itself. There is always the possibility that some serious malady would bring the horrors of hospital, and who knows how much more outside meddling.

Humans are a combination of animal and immortal soul. Immortal souls don’t need schedules, but animals fare better when life is predictable. That includes the animal part of us as well. It’s just naturally healthier. Eating small meals is also healthier. The biological engine runs best when it runs lean. Too much fuel clogs the pistons. We are designed for scarcity; plenty chokes us.

I also take two low-grade aspirins each day, plus some exercise. The exercise is brief, and not very vigorous, but it’s better than no exercise.

Health is not the main reason for the schedule.

When my wonderful wife, Joyce, was taken to Heaven March 10, 2010, my world fell to pieces. That hasn’t changed. I don’t think it ever will. At least, not until I’m with Joyce again, in Heaven.

What could I do?

I thought of a possibility.

We judge duration by the number of novel events experienced in any given period of clock-time. Anyone who has taken a long road trip will remember that the going was a lot longer than the returning. You had new things to think about on the way there. On the way back, those same things were old, and therefore hardly noticed.

What if I did tomorrow, and tomorrow, exactly what I did yesterday, and yesterday, and all the yesterdays before that? Time wouldn’t stop, but it might be a lot more bearable.

And so, it has been.

By K. L. Shipley

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