Friday. A good evening last night in Hayward. I decided to park downtown and got lucky finding a space on the corner of Broadway and 12th across from the old APL office building near an entrance to BART. A BART ride then to Hayward, a BART ride back just after ten to find the car in one piece, no signs of protest groups who'd gotten out of hand and set fire to any of the buildings. I learned later a hundred or so people had been marching in the area but without particular excitement. Success.
Up some three hours later than usual this morning (yes, I got in late, but not that late) skipping breakfast and hopping a bus later at eleven to have lunch with Ms. V, her last day at the old company this Tuesday. Another lunch Monday with some of my old group, a session with the gastroenterologist after. The main reason I kept it to a couple of ounces of Guinness last night was the stomach. It seems to reliably kick in with alcohol and coffee. Coffee I can live without, I've had periods in my life where I've avoided it for whatever reason, and I can live without alcohol too, but I'll miss the sake ritual on Saturday nights with the soaps. Yes, I will.
It could be something worse.
We'll not go there. You only cross those bridges when the tests come back positive. Haven't had any tests yet. Not thinking they will.
Later. Tired. All that excitement last night? Who knows? A good night's sleep tonight, breakfast early at the usual place tomorrow, but no coffee. Chocolate, maybe. Whoop it up. I'm allowed.