Sunday. To sleep before ten to awaken at six on another overcast morning to take my time getting ready to drive to breakfast, arriving one minute before the first waitress arrived to open the restaurant. Success in the overall scheme of things, I'm thinking.

The Eggs Benedict, country potatoes and coffee breakfast over the Sunday papers, one or two stories I was unfamiliar with, the Trump news consistently depressing. In no mood to be reading “depressing” for a second or third time on a Sunday or any other day morning.

Still overcast on the drive home, thinking The Open would be being broadcast when I arrived, to discover (at least at that moment), Tiger Woods was in the lead by a stroke, only to fall back as I was editing yesterday's entry. Something to watch more of this morning.

Later. Tiger didn't make it, but an interesting tournament none the less. Spent the rest of the afternoon watching two episodes of an odd slow paced Korean thing on the tablet and then watched the two repeat episodes of Elementary that started at five to realize during the second episode I'd slipped into an ocular migraine, but without the familiar sparkly blob that usually heralds its arrival. As usual, didn't understand the world had slipped until it peaked just as the episode ended and I was sitting there wondering what was what.

To bed again and an hour later the world seemed somewhat back together. Again, the presence of the sparkly blog aside, these things are more like an acid trip (a very short acid trip) than anything to do with visual shenanigans, not sure if other people who've been diagnosed with them experience them in the same way. Maybe we share the visual distortions, some more than others, but the episodes themselves are entirely different.

Evening. OK, the day is done, the head relatively clear, maybe we can get some sleep tonight.

And that's it?

That's pretty much always it, except for the ocular migraine part.