Saturday. Skipped The Eagle last night, but did watch both episodes of Midsomer Murders that ended before ten (another somewhat odd, but Midsomer-like plot set during the Christmas holidays) before going to bed and reading an article in the new Atlantic.
Awake before the alarm, but getting up somewhat slowly. A decent night's sleep? Hard to say, but better certainly than the norm. Off to breakfast on another grey overcast morning, but with the sun and higher temperatures (that I'll probably bitch about) arriving sooner than later. Still a good start, closer to yesterday's really excellent start than many another. So good. How many times do I say/write “good” scribbling here in the journal?
If it's enough to annoy you, it's enough to drive readers straight up a wall.
Later. A nap: good, clearly needed. An hour of light sleep, but light is alright. Better than sheep.
A walk over to the Lakeshore ATM through the farmers market, lots of people as always, strawberry shortcake at the drive-in across from the market on the way. Not a single picture, but no complaints. “Onward”, as Oat Willie was wont to say, “through the fog”.
A bus downtown at Grand across from the theater. I was in the mood I guess, no real reason other than I wasn't ready to go back home. Coffee and a bun in the City Center, a picture just to take a picture. A walk then on up Broadway, a picture at the BART station entrance they've been working on for some months now, the wall sculpture finally explaining what was inside all those wooden crates that had been sitting along the street for so long, a picture of a truck painted with a Borenquen Soul sign on Grand. I looked it up when I got home.
A bus at the Grand and Webster stop, the bus running late. A long walk, a little tired, probably some pollen futzing with the sinuses. Whatever. Glad to be back.
Later still. Another attempt at a nap, up finally to futz around on the net and listen to Stockholm again, the new Chrissy Hynde album in which she makes a reference to Wilson in the last song. I know Steve is pleased. But then I'm a Hynde fan, have been since her first Pretenders album.
Evening. Nothing on any of the PBS stations other than the 1950's movie The Bad Seed at eight. I haven't been able to watch any of the old Hayes Code era movies in forever, movies I did watch with some interest when I was young. Brain going soft? Age strikes a below the belt blow? Maybe. Then again, maybe just a change in my peculiar particular sensibilities. I suspect it's specific to me or else others my age would be complaining.
What makes you think they're not?
Because so many of them watch these things on PBS.