Friday. Watched the full episode of Vera last night which meant I got to bed and lights out after eleven. Still, an interesting program, we'll not complain (unless mentioning it is a complaint). Anyway, no regrets, although I did awaken around three and it took a good hour to get back to sleep. Wide awake. Still up ten minutes before the alarm was due to sound at twenty past six (feeling fine) and was ready to head out to breakfast except the Times and the Tribune had yet arrived. Again. Two days in a row. Waited for fifteen minutes before saying, as I did yesterday, the hell with it and walking out the door.
To read the one paper on the one day the cook arrived thirty minutes late and so ran out of news well before breakfast arrived (me-oh-my). So I sit there and from a distance watched myself sitting there, seeing I'm getting testy and not much liking it. Well, testy. No like or dislike either way, just watching myself, understanding one does not want to say anything testy because, well, you just don't. Old cranky guy can't take a silly delay. Oh, and did I mention it was overcast outside?
A walk home without having acted out or said anything too silly, taking a photograph to document the four cent drop in the price of regular, sitting down once I got home to look at yesterday's entry before posting. And work on yesterday's entry before posting. Messy, to say the least. Typos that I hadn't caught. Why hadn't they been caught? I hadn't spent enough time yesterday editing, but I certainly had made changes, gone over it more than once, how could I not have caught some of those typos then? Or this morning during that hour I was up? Maybe it's telling me it's well past time for a nap.
Later. A good hour's nap, the day finally coming together and so a bus downtown at twelve-thirty to take the usual set of Latham Square photographs before picking up a prescription refill and various other necessities at the pharmacy. Most always a slog, waiting in line at the pharmacy, and so a walk back along Broadway to take more pictures and duck upstairs at the Rotunda building to flesh out the set before returning to the street and crossing Broadway to the bus stop, missing the return bus by one minute. Ah, well. The sun was coming out, the temperature was decent and I'd understood I could well miss the bus if I detoured into the Rotunda building yet did so happily without a second thought.
A walk back to the apartment, stopping at the Bellevue café across from the apartment house construction site, to have a bagel with cream cheese (they were out of the apple fritters I'd had yesterday) and coffee before taking another set of construction site photographs. A little tired, but reasonably tired, so home to listen to the three o'clock news as I processed pictures and wrote all this undying prose.
Later still. Finished the photographs and retired to the bedroom to hunker down with the tablet. There's the usual Friday New Tricks at seven and a Midsomer Murders after at eight and I suspect I'll watch the first and bail on the second before heading back to bed for the night.
Evening. I'd seen the New Tricks episode before, at least I guessed I'd seen it before as one or two of the scenes brought back vague thoughts that I had. Doesn't matter. And yes I skipped the Midsomer Murders episodes after watching the intro. I'm afraid the series has been relegated to my no longer can handle bin. Something about a certain strain of English television that's lost its appeal. Something to do with manor houses, storybook clichés of English life lived prior to the instigation of their nineteen sixties attitude adjustment phase.
It's late and it's time for bed.