Saturday. Well, we're up (the editorial “we” and the editorial “up”) and we've had breakfast at the usual cafe and it looks as if the cloud cover is going to break by mid-morning and what more could one want or say? I didn't notice anything reported in the paper going on out there that I might want to photograph (with one possible exception in Berkeley), but we'll see how it goes, how the head goes, how the nation goes as we approach noon (doodle-dee-doon) and I find ourself sitting here still coherent, albeit barely.
Later. A two hour nap and then a trip downtown on the bus to have lunch and noodle about for a bit before returning to sit here at the computer at two. Life in the fast lane, I guess. The sliding glass door to the balcony is open (the screen door closed) and the fan is blowing a stream of air across my lap. This is good. The head is the same old fucked up sinuses and top of head (and right eye and chin and nose and teeth), but nothing too serious. I am in a good mood, albeit already half dreading Monday morning, not for the people or the work, just for the, I don't know, routine. I'm done with that. Way down done with that. I may find I miss it after a few months out there in the real world, wherever that might be, but we'll worry about it when and if it happens.
Aching head, aching head. Dull, dull, dull.
Fortunately dull. If it were sharp I'd have to find something stronger than the occasional Ibuprofen capsule to handle it. It's worrisome in the sense I wonder how much time I'm going to spend outside running around with a camera when I retire with a head like this - so far it hasn't taken on any aspects that make me think it's going to kill me; I have other things that will one day handle that - and so it's on my mind (or have you noticed?). Hence the medicos. Hence the various scans to search out the usual subjects. One day, maybe, they will find one of the usual subjects and I'll wish I'd retired sooner, but those are things you can't control. So I babble on.