Monday. To sleep at the usual time to awaken at six-thirty. Good. Up to take the blood pressure (115/74), skip taking the blood pressure med and set out to drive to breakfast on an overcast morning, the sun starting to show up during breakfast. Two copies of the Chronicle this morning, but no East Bay Times. These things seem to keep happening. Arrived at the usual time to park, enter the closed off dining area, turn on the lights and settle in with the Chronicle and the N.Y. Times.

The plain waffle with sliced bananas and strawberries, fruit cup and coffee, the weight slowly getting back to the one-fifty target, just two pounds off. Finished up a little early (no East Bay Times) to set out, take the picture of the succulent in a pot on the restaurant patio railing and take a picture heading back to the car, driving straight home and taking the usual three selfies, three because, as often as not, only one turns out.

Took the blood pressure when I got home, 106/65, lower than first thing this morning, edited and posted yesterday's entry and now ready to tackle the day ahead, the blood pressure 110/63 at ten thirty-five. Go figure, not sure I can.

Later. Not a lot to say other than more time on the tablet, more time on the Internet, the usual time listening to (half listening to) the news, more time on the tablet and more blood pressure readings, finally taking the blood pressure med at five-thirty when it got up to 133/74. Not sure if that wasn't too soon as it tends to drop once I'm in bed. Who knows?

Evening. Watched Father Brown at eight, funky, but I got through it without any real complaints, then watched The Bletchley Circle that followed. Like the idea of Bletchley, the four women code breakers who've gotten together to solve crimes after the war.

To bed by ten, the blood pressure 118/68 at nine thirty-five, more of these readings coming I'm afraid for the foreseeable future.

Something to worry about other than the virus.

An ever longer list.