Wednesday. Not sure I really quite remember when it was I turned out the lights last night, but it was early enough, awakening up this morning just after six and getting up and preparing to walk to breakfast on another overcast and cool morning, feeling even colder on the way home. Probably was. Colder. As Jack London said: this is summer weather.
Later. A decent enough day, still cold when I headed out the door and then turned right around again to get a winter jacket. A bus downtown to Latham Square to take another set of pictures, although there didn't seem to be all that much difference at the site since the last time I took photographs. The opening is scheduled in two weeks time, so I'm assuming there's not much left to be done.
A raspberry shortbread cookie and a small coffee at the Rotunda building and then a bus home, the sky clearing and the sun finally appearing around one. No longer a need for the winter coat, the temperature now up into the sixties. Long sleeve shirt weather. They're saying no t-shirt weather is due until the weekend.
Later still. Another delivery left outside the apartment house front door without getting a head's up with the door buzzer, a second package for an occupant upstairs along with mine this time. Again realized it had been delivered when I checked the UPS web site, the delivery occurring about the same time it did yesterday. One day this is going to go bad.
A decent enough day. More time watching television than I like to think about, but that seems to be the way of our particular world in retirement. Will it eventually cause me to do something more? Take a trip? Move? A long vacation? Visit the sister? Attend a Seattle family party? Some days I'm thinking yes, more days no, but none of it is written in stone.
Sounds ambitious for someone who avoids anything more adventuresome than a ten minute bus ride.
Evening. Watched the last half of Democracy Now I'd missed this morning. Couldn't quite get into the BBC thing at seven that's set in a field hospital during World War I, another couldn't quite follow the dialogue for their accent, a complaint I suspect isn't all that common. My hearing? Could be if I were honest.
Skipped the Death In Paradise at eight, didn't even check to see what was happening on Charlie Rose, but went to bed instead. That's what I seem to recall, tacking this on tomorrow morning.