Sunday. To bed early, lights out by ten, up more than once to take a leak (we must remember to not drink so many liquids before bed), to awaken then at quarter past six no worse for wear and feeling pretty good. I'd say, if memory serves.
Clear skies on the drive to and back from breakfast. The two strips of bacon, country potatoes and eggs over easy fruit cup and coffee breakfast. Another clear headed start to a day, although taking a dose of the pain meds when I got home just in case. Arbitrary, the dose of pains meds, but we're in new territory with this aging business and so arbitrary we be.
Nothing on the schedule today, but the coming week has more than a few things to photograph. Trump and the inauguration ahead has, in the fear and loathing it's generated, created opportunities for photographs.
Later. Two strips of bacon. Cured meats are on the to be avoided list for a reason and so, I guess, an ocular thing started. Not over the top, but it put me to bed for two hours, much of it asleep, before it evaporated and the day could begin again. At noon. How many times do I have to learn this lesson? Avoid the things on the list. (But testing it now and again.)
A memory clicked in around two there was a “poets” anti-Trump gathering at Frank Ogawa Plaza scheduled at one and so a bus downtown to see if it might not have been big enough to still be ongoing. It wasn't and so a walk back up Broadway to catch a bus to the 7-11 look-alike to pick up an ice cream bar and eat it on the way home.
Two strips of bacon this morning and now a chocolate covered ice cream bar in the afternoon? One item on the forbidden list that led to an ocular incident and now another? Just like that? Dumbo?
They've been harmless in the past. Chocolate, but not enough of it on an ice cream bar to strike back.
No pictures while I was out, but some exercise and the day is nice.
Later still. Still light and so, slightly antsy, out the door again to head over to the lake and take some pictures. Lots of people about, a group playing drums, one man practicing his tight rope walking, a woman reading what one suspects is a currently useful book. Not much of a walk, but home in time to catch the amazing ending of the Packers-Cowboys game, just the right way to finish out an afternoon.
Evening. Two Elementary episodes starting at five. I have no excuse for watching Elementary every time it plays. It, in many ways, shares the same “defects” that make me avoid the current Cumberbatch series.
You're no longer fond of the Jeremy Brett series either, although you watched them with interest and approval when they were first released. How are you with Basil Rathbone?
I have a set of the Rathbone episodes on DVD I haven't looked at in years. I think I now need to watch one and see if I'm off them as well.
And the books? The stories themselves? Will they set you off too?
They were some of the first stories I read when I first learned to read, as my parents had an old much read set my grandparents had owned. Be a shame if it were true. What I'm reacting to is the increasingly off the wall behavior these series have made Holmes. He's become a classic psychiatric study with the genius detective attached. A bit eccentric, yes, part of the canon, but a drug addled autistic genius detective seemingly locked in a world of his own? Seems to be the direction they're pushing him. No dice.