Tuesday. I've noted the situation depicted in the photo above before, two cars with parking tickets below a no parking on the second and fourth Mondays of each month sign. It's very faded, very difficult to read. Some sympathy for the drivers, although the driver of the Max Muscle Sports Medicine parks in the area every day and probably should know better, his shop is just down the way next to Gold's Gym on Grand. But still, if they're going to nail you, they should at least play fair. Good for a couple of pictures and a paragraph, anyway.
Another hot day ahead. The morning Chronicle had a front page story about yesterday's heat. A few more column inches and better placement than the story deserved, but one that was probably read by more people than, say, the various trouble in Afghanistan and Iraq stories buried inside. Quite honestly I skipped out on all of them, too depressing for the moment. But it was hot yesterday, due to be hot today, although they're saying more fog with the possibility of a little rain over the weekend. My thoughts: duck the heat, pray for fog, skip the rain.
The surge suppressors finally arrived late yesterday, by the way, and I replaced three of the smaller ones I had in place, moving two of them to other outlets where they were needed, and decided to order two more today. Various wires have been bound together with Velcro strips into neater little bundles with more to follow later this morning. A sign of energy. I don't know where it's coming from, but I'll let it take its course, get what good I can get out of it while its around. Silly, I know, but interesting to observe. Laundry later. Maybe.
Be careful. It will take offense and go away if you keep babbling on like this.
Later. Seems warmer than yesterday, heading out and catching a bus not long after nine, returning before eleven. An iced coffee and a Cranberry muffin at the City Center out at a table in the shade, a picture, but barely. A walk then through the Frank Ogawa Plaza area in front of City Hall to again sit at a shaded bench, keeping to the shaded side of the streets on the way home. It's not that warm, but I'm evidently a wuss when it comes to rising temperatures. I got as far as the lake before catching a bus for the remaining distance home, enough of a walk to call it a walk, enough of a walk to get aching back muscles, but a walk, none the less, that counts.
I think we'll skip doing any laundry, I have enough clean clothes to last through the week, through the month if I'm willing to wear those brown socks. (Don't ask about the brown socks.) Tomorrow, maybe, this afternoon, conceivably, but not now, not now. I have an urge to futz around the apartment, maybe tie up some more of the things that have needed attention now for a long time. I'll be curious to see how this rare urge turns out.
There's a storage locker in Alameda, under the bay through a tunnel, I've been supporting now for many years. Any urge to, you know, clean this or that, arrange this or that; it all gives me a spark of hope, a thought it could lead to larger projects such as that storage locker, and so I write about it here. So many times, but to no avail, no avail.
Later still. Feeling better, the double vision symptoms gone, some things dusted and rearranged on the bedroom desk, wires bound, the temperature ratcheting down. Of course I'm sitting in front of a fan as I write, but I was sitting in front of a fan earlier when I was melting. So good, the afternoon drawing to a close, maybe a little guitar practice soon. Practice on a guitar connected with Velcro bound cables connected to an amp getting its power through a single - sprouting power cords like quills on a porcupine just arrived yesterday - surge suppressor.
That's enough. You're obviously still wasted.