Not A Factor
Friday. I watched the two part Unit One last night, finishing the thing not all that long before midnight. So much for sensibility. An odd program following a group of detectives, each with a set of strengths and flaws, each of their stories told with similar attention. One, a crime site forensics expert, has the ability to find clues through mystical visualizations at the crime scene. Not the sort of thing you expect in your detectives. Mystical approaches that reliably lead to a solution to a crime.
All of which means?
Nothing I'm able to comprehend or relate in a way that I or anyone else will understand. Other than the idea I'm going crackers.
Still, up with the alarm to head off to breakfast and back, the sky clear, already t-shirt temperature, a spare the air day they're waying will get up close to ninety in Oakland, three figures over the nearby eastern hills. Better to get outside now in the early morning, take my construction site pictures and hightail it back inside to sit in front of the fan and do nothing more strenuous than pontificate online. Oh, and make up for the guitar I cut short yesterday. Must be honest in our litany of transgressions.
Later. Noon and it's eighty-six degrees out there, 50% humidity and there's more (one must assume) to come as the afternoon unfolds. The humidity feels higher. Which is why I did get out early to walk over to the construction site and take my little set of pictures, talking briefly with the construction manager about hats, photography and schedules. Good to be on good terms with management when you're trying to take pictures.
Ambitions for the day satisfied, on to the bedroom (with the fan sitting up on a platform at the foot of the bed) to listen to the various PBS talk programs that tell you things about our government we don't like to hear. I'm beginning to suspect it's an age thing since similarly unpleasant things were going on in our youth, but we either weren't paying attention or we were still too optimistic and ambitious to know how to put it into perspective. Or know what was really going on as when we later heard about such things as the Cuban Missile Crisis and how close we came to living out our remaining lives much differently. If we'd been lucky and still had our lives left to live. But I digress.
As said, noon. An afternoon ahead.
Later still. A slow afternoon. No sleep, but a nice nodding off hour or so lying down catching up on a magazine or two, being careful to stay in front of the fan. A couple of degress warmer out there now, humidity at 90%, without the fan I'd have to think about finding an air conditioned building. They say we older folk react more strongly to heat. I'm beginning to believe it.
Evening. New Tricks turned out to be half decent, but I'm suspecting I've seen the two episodes (part one and part two) of Midsomer Murders before and don't need to see it again. Given the nine o'clock International Mystery offering is Italian, I suspect we'll get to bed at a decent hour tonight unless that Netflix thing I started earlier lures me to the tablet when I go to bed. We're going to find out, one would guess.
Still too warm. It finally cooled off last night later and I was able to turn off the fan and crawl under the covers, suspect we're looking at the same routine tonight. At least it does cool off. In New York it didn't, hot and humid straight through til morning when it cranked up to impossible levels again. An unexpected education for a hick from the Northwest sticks where the temperatures were easy and the humidity not a factor.