Surfeit of appointments

Yesterday (Tuesday, August 21, 2012) I juggled a mind-boggling surfeit of appointments; at least five.
Roll-out at 6:04 a.m., my usual time, make coffee, let dog out, open all the gates in the fenced back area, make the bed, eat breakfast.
Then immediately take the dog to doggie-daycare, no time for a walk.
Drop off dog at doggie-daycare as soon as possible so I can take the CR-V to Ontario Honda in Canandaigua for a so-called “D-service,” which I couldn’t sit and wait for. I’d need a loaner.
I also told them the “check-engine” light had come on occasionally. It wasn’t on then, but had come on in the past.
Then drive loaner back down to the Canandaigua YMCA to work out.
I had told the doggie-daycare people I might skip one aerobic workout to make my final appointment, a 4:05 Shingles vaccination in the nearby village of Victor, about 10-12 miles from home.
To guarantee making that appointment, I had to pick up my dog earlier.
In the middle of all this I had to hit a supermarket in Canandaigua, plus my cleaning-lady was coming.
I don’t have to be around for the cleaning-lady, but was.
She knows where the secret door-key is hidden, but I have to leave the garage people-door unlocked.
I also told Ontario Honda I’d call after working out at the YMCA in case the CR-V was done.
It wasn’t. The “check-engine” light threw up a code that said an oxygen-sensor needed to be replaced — add about 450 smackaroos (the D-service was $525).
I was able to do both aerobic workouts; each takes 35 minutes — I had arrived at the YMCA an hour earlier than usual.
But I skipped some weight-lifting and balance-training.
To my mind the aerobic training is what counts; keep the old ticker in shape.
I managed to juggle the entire kibosh successfully, get car serviced, work out at YMCA, shop supermarket, get vaccinated again Shingles, all while processing the dog.
I honestly don’t know that I could have done all this back in May, shortly after my wife died.
I’m still messy, but back then I was probably worse.
For a couple weeks it was like nothing happened, followed by a couple weeks when things made no sense — like I was only going through the motions.
(I had the same feeling following my stroke.)
Now things make sense, but I’m still distraught and heartbroken. I have hardly any gumption at all.
It’s just like previous to my wife’s death: sheer madness.
I’m not so sure I could have fiddled all this even before my wife died.

• The “CR-V” is my 2003 Honda CR-V SUV.
• “Canandaigua” (“cannan-DAY-gwuh”) is a small city nearby where I live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 14 miles away. —I live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield, southeast of Rochester.
• I work out in the Canandaigua YMCA Exercise-Gym, appropriately named their “Wellness-Center,” usually two-three days per week, about two-three hours per visit.
• My beloved wife of 44 years died of cancer April 17, 2012. She was 68. I miss her dearly.
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993, from which I pretty much recovered.