Saturday. An uneven night's sleep with the phlegm or whatever it is in the lungs making it difficult to find a position allowing you to comfortably breathe. Awakened at six to finally get up and drive, first to the Lakeshore ATM and then to the restaurant, the dining area dark at ten minutes to six. The door was unlocked and so went inside to turn on the lights and settle in with the papers.

Felt strangely weak through all of this, but was hungry for a change and so ordered the corned beef hash, eggs over medium, country potatoes, toast, fruit cup and coffee for breakfast. Hungry for the first time I can remember, but pushed it aside later without finishing most of the toast and the potatoes. Literally a first.

OK, out the door to drive home, take a selfie, futz with and post yesterday's entry before crashing for an hour before returning to get on with this.

Later. Watched the golf tournament, heard amplified voices that sounded as if they were coming from down on Grand and so headed out to find a large group had formed across Grand demonstrating in support of the Sudanese people who were trying to oust the military government for a more democratic citizens' government. A first, really, for a demonstration at this specific location.

A walk across and through the crowd to take pictures and then walk on to the 7-11 look-alike for a pint of strawberry ice cream to bring home for lunch. The head and body are still in not good shape, the lungs are still congested. Not badly congested, but congested enough to matter. At least the ice cream was good.

Evening. Nothing on television and so spent the rest of the day finishing up watching the golf tournament before hunkering down with the tablet. Feeling like this means I'm obviously going to miss photographing the Dykes on Bikes at the S.F. Gay Pride Parade tomorrow and I'm wondering if the twenty years I've photographed them have now come to an end.

All things must pass.

And some, not with a bang, but a whimper.