Sunday. To sleep at the usual time, but another awakening at five-thirty morning. Not unusual and so remained pretty much zoned out with the radio turned down low until Counterspin came on at six. A drive to breakfast under overcast skies to arrive with all three papers in tow, enter the closed off dining room, turn on the lights and settle in with the papers. So far, so good, another day in play.

The single pork chop, scrambled eggs, country potatoes, toast, fruit cup and coffee for breakfast, finishing up well after nine to head out the door to the car, take pictures of two flowers this time in pots along the restaurant patio railing and then turn around when I head my name being called by the restaurant owner who was standing on the sidewalk at the corner pointing at a turkey slowly crossing the street. Returned to take two not very good shots of what turned out to be three turkeys who'd wandered in from who knows where.

Home to take the selfie and finish yesterday's entry before posting. Sunny now, they're saying a high of sixty-nine degrees later, maybe at least take a look at the crowd by the lake later to make up for not having done it yesterday.

Fat chance of that. You're babbling again.

Later. Watched the golf tournament on television until it was halted due to rain, watched another episode of Rebus on the tablet, an English detective series on Britbox, went back to check out the golf tournament to find it had started again and so watched it through the end. No trips down the way to check out the lake and so I was indeed babbling. Again.

Evening. Nothing on television and so to bed to turn the lights out not long after ten, tired by then. Not a bad day, no deviations from the norm, no disturbing signs of a visitation by the virus.