Monday. I was feeling a little wobbly last night and so, giving up on the Adam Dalgleish Mystery that started at eight, headed to bed, turned out the light and slept until six-ten this morning with one or two brief awakenings to turn over and go back to sleep. One of them, I seem to recall, had fireworks going off in the distance and so, I suspect, I was awake (sort of awake) to bring the New Year in.

Felt good getting up at least, the morning café not opening until eight this morning and so taking my time, heading out in the car at seven forty-five to arrive and find they'd been open for a while, no need to have worried about being stuck in the car waiting for someone to arrive.

The hamburger patty, eggs over medium, country potatoes, toast, fruit cup and coffee for breakfast. Hungry, going to breakfast an hour later (I said), the scale earlier reading one-fifty and four tenths of a pound, so we're essentially back to where we were before Christmas. Which, of all the things that remain in doubt in this life, that was not one of them. Maintaining the weight has not been a problem. A revelation, after earlier struggles, but no problem now.

A picture and then the drive home, the sky grungy looking, but letting through a fair amount of light. Another save the air day, but not bad for taking pictures.

Later. Tired, it seems, but otherwise reasonably coherent. A walk over to the lake, more to get outside than anything else, antsy, you might say. All of two or three pictures of the drummers at the pergola, the surrounding benches occupied, but otherwise not all that crowded as most of the people (and there were many) were either running or walking the lake, tending dogs, pushing carriages or taking pictures with their cell phones. New Year's Day.

This brief outing was more than enough and so back to the apartment to lie down for ten minutes to more wakeup than go to sleep before processing two pictures and start listening to the news. Lots of “what happened last year” reporting. Not sure I want to be reminded.

This marks the beginning of the 21st year since I started this journal, now blog, and I've been vaguely thinking that might mean something, maybe changing it or dropping it or going off on a tangent. Hard to think in terms of another tangent when you now seem to be tired more often than not. Still....

Evening. A Father Brown I'd seen before and most certainly didn't need to see again, skipped Miss Fisher altogether and went to bed.

A cookie cutter software bot could write your evenings just as easily.

My mornings and afternoons too.