Sunday. Lights out early enough last night, couldn't talk myself into watching anything on the tablet and so to sleep, a good night's sleep, awakening at quarter to six. Too early, if I had my druthers, but took my time getting up and out the door (with all three papers in tow!) to drive to breakfast, arriving fifteen minutes before anyone had arrived to open the restaurant. Sundays. It happens.
The Eggs Benedict, country potatoes, fruit cup and coffee, the fruit cup a gift the restaurant provides as a good, there every morning, customer. Read the papers and headed home, remembering there's an Impeach Trump March scheduled in San Francisco at the Ferry Building that I was planning on attending. I will. Attend. I think I will.
More memory slips and glitches editing and posting yesterday's entry. The change in the month requires modifications a little more complicated than changing the day and the fact I don't do them other than monthly combined with a wandering head provides the “glitches”. Nothing too horrible, just, you know, noting.
Later. Somewhat a surprise, not going to San Francisco to photograph the march. Tired, but packing the camera and checking the time to catch the bus and BART to arrive around noon, I lied down on the bed thinking to zone out for an hour. An hour became most of the afternoon, half zoning out, half watching whatever on the tablet. Really tired. Blitzed tired. Not sure why. Still quite blitzed as it approaches six.
Evening. Watched the two episodes of Elementary that ran starting at five, still fried tired. I was crashed out on the bed or crashed out on the ottoman watching television. Or futzing with this. Blood pressure normal, nothing happening there.
A note on Facebook saying the Impeach Trump March had drawn some fifteen hundred to two thousand participants, more than enough people for photographs.