A Decent Hour
Monday. To sleep, but not before eleven I'm afraid. To bed earlier, but for some reason the switch wouldn't turn off and I was awake for longer than I'd have liked. Did I screw around and not put the right amount of effort into it? Falling asleep? Maybe, maybe not. Still, up with the alarm, to breakfast and back before eight on another going to be warm and sunny day. They say.
I heard, on another recent news program, that gas prices have gone up some eighteen cents nationally in the last two weeks due to corn shortages, corn used to make the ethanol that's blended in gasoline. Well, it's gone up twenty-four cents here, but the same news people were projecting a thirty-five cent increase due just to the local Chevron depot fire alone, this apart from any ethanol or other shortages. So who's right?
Best I stop paying attention to this stuff. I liked economics in school and can see why the occasional oddball gets hooked into researching these questions, gets lost way down under the hood searching out numbers and scouring documents. I can see it but have no impetus to do other than babble on about it here.
Can't spare any time from all your bitching babbling?
Takes time, babbling, and you have to be totally oblivious to your surroundings to bring it off. Or haven't you noticed?
Later. The day is proceeding slowly, but it's a good day none the less. Nothing wrong with slow unless your chasing pop flies. A walk over to the morning café (after a nap) to have a scoop of ice cream and coffee, passing by the parallel bars along Grand near MacArthur.
The lake with the nearby Gold's Gym is a magnet for people who are into various forms of exercise, so I assume I wouldn't see nearly as many people puffing along the sidewalks, doing push-ups and sit-ups and curling themselves into strange shapes more Eastern than you'd normally find on your local school yard if I were to live anywhere else. I don't feel guilty not getting out there with them as I've managed to rationalize the walking is enough, but if I were into guilt this would be a good place to start.
It's just after noon, we'll pick up the guitar for a first session of the day, see if it doesn't start us off on a good long series of sessions lasting well into the evening, well into the evening being well before eleven. However.
Later still. A good session or two on the guitar (we get a pat on the head and a gold star), some time futzing with the big Epson printer that hasn't been working for the last week, finally breaking down and calling their help center. They answered right away, we went through some trouble shooting steps, but couldn't get it to react. OK, the name of the nearest Epson repair center, hoping the Bay Area had one close by and bingo, one three miles from here in Emeryville.
A call to Emeryville. Yes, I could bring it in, they'd charge me $135 to diagnose the thing and then apply the $135 toward the repair if I decided to go ahead with it, if not I'm out $135. OK. Some things you just do, no way around them. One last futz with the printer. It hiccuped, did a nozzle self-cleaning and started printing again. Luck. We like luck. It comes, sometimes. It does. No complaints and a proper set of hosannas to the Fates.
It's after six, nothing on TV any sane man might want to watch, maybe another walk after making one or two more prints.
Evening. A good evening after a walk down to the local 7-11 look-alike for a large bottle of Corona and an ice cream cone, the beer turning out just right. Nothing again on TV (I'll not be tempted by cable, no I won't, not I, no-sir-re bob) so more guitar and to bed at a decent hour. Hup!