Counting the days

Since I started taking Lisinopril for my high blood pressure, over a year ago, I have become very aware of how the days are measured out by the calendar packs of pills by my bedside. From the fresh packet every fortnight the ritual of taking one every morning is reflected in the growing number of empty bubbles as the days go by.

Somehow this has given me a real sensation of time going by, much more immediate than is felt in the daily newspaper or change of location on a calendar. In itself this is ironic, because I hope that by taking these pharmaceutical reminders of time and mortality I am in fact improving my chances of reaching a very ripe old age. That's ripe as in mature, not ripe as is pungent.

;o)