Tuesday. To bed and lights out by ten to awaken just after six. So good. Seems to have been a decent night. Up to walk to breakfast under another clear sky to have the avocado and cheese omelet with country potatoes, toast and coffee, more because I couldn't think of anything else that appealed, if even that appealed. Go figure.
Took a second set of pictures of an employment letter taped to the restaurant's front door window that I'd photographed for the manager two weeks before so she could then send the both of them to (I assume) the Department of Labor for approval and then, documented the two cent increase in gas prices before walking home under a bright sun. Took another usual picture of the usual suspect.
We'll not guess what the day may hold and we certainly won't make any promises we'll end up not keeping. This journal is embarrassing enough without mindlessly piling on more out of, well, I don't know? Boredom? Better boredom than senility. (I would imagine.)
Later. An hour long late morning nap. My, my. Tired. Up and finally heading out the door around two thinking to at least get in a walk to the Lakeshore ATM, if not around the lake, as I was feeling a little woozy, woozy being defined here as just at the edge of dizzy. Or something similar. Whatever it was or is, it isn't something that encourages you to get up and go walking.
Sat down a couple of times to rest on the way home, but sitting didn't help and so now back at the apartment listening to my various news programs. Trump again seems to be dominating the headlines. Too often unsettling when your president is dominating the headlines.
Later still. It was up into the mid seventies today. I would have been more surprised if I hadn't been dealing with the woozy business. Took a second dose of the pain meds just now, the sinuses acting up since this morning. I have no idea if seeing another neurologist would help, but I've started thinking about suggesting it. But we're right at the edge of babbling here. How many times does it come to this?
Evening. The sinuses are better. Good. Listened to a Charlie Rose discussion on Trump (what else?), checked out two British period pieces on PBS and then went to bed. Time for bed. Seems to be too often time for bed anymore.