Saturday. An uneven night's sleep to awaken finally with the alarm at six-fifteen and get ready to walk to breakfast on another overcast morning, the temperature not so bad, the body walking along OK, but not quite awake. Arrived to find the restaurant dark at five minutes to seven, but the dining area door open and so entered, turned on the lights and settled in with the papers, the world seemingly not in any better shape than it was yesterday.
The French Toast with sliced bananas and strawberries, fruit cup and coffee, finishing up by eight-thirty. Or so. Not sure I was paying attention. Crossed the street to photograph the ten cent increase in the price of regular, crossed back to walk home by the Grand Lake Farmers Market, one of the large number of flowers below the Lakeside school, the 580 Overpass and another, of course, of the scooters by the lake. Not sure why the sinus-upper palate was acting up as if on steroids all this morning and seemingly more so on this walk back, but felt like crap, taking the selfie half toasted. At least it's the weekend with a sunny day ahead.
After posting yesterday's entry and processing this morning's pictures, headed over to the lake, the flowers under the white column pergola now in bloom (where are the insects, though?), passing a much smaller group of people engaged in their exercise routines and so snapped a series of pictures. Should have stopped and taken more care, as only the three turned out.
On to the Grand Lake Farmers Market, but didn't find anything that called out to buy or be photographed, managed to avoid the waffle with whipped cream truck and returned to walk along the lake, ending up at the burger drive-in where I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich, this time with onions.
I've been figuring I've been ordering them without onions since forever now out of habit, picked up when I was a kid, and the taste would probably be just fine when mixed in with everything else. And it was, although I wasn't expecting to experience them later tasting/smelling them on my breath.
Evening. Day done, lights out at nine forty-five, my lights out by ten. Again.