Sunday. It's probably not an altogether good sign when you wake up and think, yes, daylight savings kicked off this morning at 2:00, but what does that mean again exactly? Spring forward, fall back? Do I gain an hour or lose an hour? How can you not know after sixty five years, most of them getting up early in the mornings to get to a job where “gaining” or “losing” an hour was a really big deal? But then, life is short, why worry about it? I managed to get to bed somewhat early last night, clear headed, no sake, and got up this morning an hour later than usual at 7:30, pardon me, 6:30 on the new clock. So we're in good shape here, right? Minor aches and throbbing toe aside? Right?
Overcast, of course. Be nice to go out the door and take a picture of what appear to be relatively dramatic clouds, except for the toe. Better, I think, but I still have no confidence it would hold up more than a hundred yards or so. Still, lots of clouds, no rain. Probably raining like hell somewhere in the area, but not here, not right here on this side of Oakland. Plenty of humidity, as it happens, but otherwise I'm sitting, needing to come up with a plan for the day that could, conceivably, include pictures. I have no pictures. I have to look through old files to find things suitable for the journal and I've been avoiding it like it was eating Cauliflower. Mumble.
You do a lot of mumbling.
I helps to fill the spaces (between my ears).
Later. OK, let's be real. There's plenty to keep me busy here inside the apartment. I talk about not having photographs and I know getting out and shooting is the solution, but for now I have books of negatives, stacks of image CD's and too many folders full of photographs on my hard drives. I found the one above in the form of a tiff file on an archived DVD. OK, I made some necessary corrections, replaced the old one sitting on artandlife and used it above. Nothing special about it, except the lady has that “unaware of the camera or her surroundings” look I like so well. They're special to me, I'm not sure they're special to anyone else.
Same with the apartment. Things to do. When I do them I feel better, can't hide the fact, so why don't I do more? We'll see in the next paragraph how this little fizzle of energy resolves itself.
Later still. The cat box has been cleaned, the balcony has been swept, plastic bags of garbage dropped down the chute. The sliding glass door is open to the screen to let the now cooler air inside as the sky cleared about an hour or so ago and the sun has been shining. And it's humid. No complaints, this is November, the temperatures are sensible and the fan is more than enough to keep my cool. What else was accomplished? Well, the rug is cleaner, albeit not that much cleaner; I've made a run to the pharmacy for various drugs and a run to Beverages & More for sake. This marks my third visit to Beverages & More where they haven't had my cheap under five dollars a bottle Ozeki sake in stock. Careless of them, don't you think? But still, two small bottles of what are considered a better brand are now sitting in the refrigerator, I'll re-introduce myself to them later this evening. Another day, another week: the toe very much better, the head doing it's own little version of vertigo-city. Aging continues, here in Oakland.