Flying Solo.

Jim is showing signs of dementia.

It could be because it's somewhere around day 12 for this sensor, and the accurate days of its youth are quickly fading from memory. It could also be because, I realized this morning, my transmitter is over a year old and likely needs replacing soon. Whatever the cause, he's losing it, and I can't rely on him today.

Even his jacket is greying.

He's the elderly man who lives in my purse - we've had such good times together that I don't want to part with him just yet (the adhesive situation on this sensor, while a mosiac of tape, is holding on like a boss), but I know he's at the point of needing to retire. Right now, he's taking a very confused nap in my purse, and I just want to pet his imaginary head and tell him everything is going to be okay. Poor guy.

Today I'll be "flying solo"; just finger sticks and I. I'm hoping that flying solo doesn't become flying "so low".

And now I have that Jason Derulo song stuck in my head.  Sigh.