Whatever It Is
Friday. I did watch an Inspector Morse mystery last night that ran 'til ten. One I'd seen before and not all that long ago. I remembered parts of it but I'd totally forgotten “who done it”. I almost always forget “who done it” with mysteries - movie, TV, book - but I guess that's an advantage if you want to see or read them again.
Not a function of a deteriorating brain in this case, I've never been able to remember who'd done what, if it's the brain that's the problem it's been the problem from the start. I could, should I have such a perverse whim, reread every Ross McDonald mystery sitting up on my shelves (you don't want to know how many) and not remember the outcome of a single one. Individual scenes, yes, but not the endings.
All that means is, getting to bed at eleven, I got up an hour later than I'd like, went to breakfast and returned home at nine in a very light rain, the city getting my $2 parking fee. A call from Mr. E reminding me we'd decided to have lunch in San Leandro when we were at dinner earlier this week (was it San Leandro? - somewhere east and south of here, I'll find out soon enough) and suggested we meet at the Rockridge BART station.
Good. I'd totally forgotten. I, of course, immediately called Mr. S to confirm the time - 12:30 - something it's best to do with Mr. E, and so I guess the afternoon is taken care of, rain or no. We'll see if Mr. Guinness is still in the ocular migraine business and wants to stir up the weasels again. Be nice if he didn't and I could then blame them on something else, any old else, but we'll see.
Later. It was indeed San Leandro, a sports “pub” with some unimagineable number of beers on tap, my compatriots trying one or three, I keeping it to a - well, I don't remember the name, an English beer, decent enough - followed by a Guinness along with lunch. Not such a good lunch was my thought as we were leaving. The appetite again, I'm sure the food was good. People were eating an awful lot of it anyway. I was hungry enough setting out, but, well, enough. I survived down there in the San Leandro BART suburbs which is always to the good.
BART back to Rockridge, my compatriots heading on up the way to find an Irish coffee, I heading to the car and home, too old anymore, I'd guess to stay on a pub crawl of any duration. Nothing to get upset about, no sign of an ocular migraine so far, but still, a fairly recent condition, but true. Can't keep up with the crew any longer than I did in today's outing. It's just true.
Up, down, up down. You know what you're talking about?
I'll take it all back tomorrow. For now, well, hell? Maybe a little nap?
Evening. A bit of a lie down for about thirty minutes, up again feeling better. Just tired from the afternoon, shouldn't have any effect on tomorrow (please). To sleep early. I checked Fedex to see how the pages were doing. My sister has received the lens, but the two packages to Nikon say: “Local delivery restriction, delivery not attempted”. Just the thing you want to see, whatever it is.