Saturday. Lights out not long after nine to awaken finally at six o'clock to get the act together and drive to breakfast. Hadn't heard the parking meters weren't running today, but the café owner informed me of the fact when I got up, after settling down at the table, to go out and feed the meter. So good. A little luck.
The eggs Benedict, country potatoes, toast, fruit cup and coffee for breakfast figuring it was close to Christmas and, if this isn't the time for comfort food, then what is? If you can call eggs Benedict comfort food. The two slices of Canadian bacon they include with the avocado and sauce isn't something I should be toying with, but again, caution to the wind. We're allowed.
You're allowed to bang your head against a wall and howl at the moon too. It's just, you know, most wouldn't recommend it.
Yes, yes, I do go on. The usual picture heading to the car, the farmers market well under way when I passed it by, maybe go by later, see if I can find anything I might like to buy.
Evening. And that turned out to be it for the day. Didn't write a single line until the next morning. Watched a series on the tablet for longer than I can remember having watched anything in the past, ate this and that through the afternoon, only some of it on the “not recommended list” to then retire to the bedroom earlier than I probably should and let the day dissolve into tomorrow.