Tuesday. To bed before ten. There was an Inspector Lewis mystery last night that started at nine, but I realized I'd seen it before (and had no idea who'd done it or where it was going) and figured I needed the sleep more than I needed to continue watching. So that worked out well. A good night's sleep, up at six, off to breakfast on a sunny going to be another nice/warm day. We have no complaints so I guess we have no more to say.
Later. A bus downtown, thinking I could do a cup of coffee out at a table in the City Center and so I did, a small cup of coffee (with sugar, this time) and a muffin to watch the people pass by and then a walk up Broadway to the bank ATM, taking a picture or two when passing through Latham Square. Sounds somehow familiar, does it not? Up, breakfast, home, bus, City Center, Latham Square, back home on the bus?
Seemed so to me, anyway. But we are not complaining. Stayed on the bus to the morning café to properly balance lunch with ice cream and lemonade, the day warm, but with just the slightest cooling breeze. Very nice to sit outside in the shade, but in the shade and not in the sun.
Back now with some few pictures in hand, nothing to write home about. It's early afternoon and I have a guitar lesson coming up in another hour. Best to run through the lesson I would think, a lesson coming in another hour. We're ready, but better to be sure.
You forgot you had a guitar lesson today?
Briefly through the morning. I got a call from my barber who asked to put tomorrow's appointment off for half an hour to make room for her Yoga lesson. I was waiting for the bus on Grand when the call came and without access to the calendar in the kitchen, but I'd been thinking the haircut wasn't scheduled until next week. I'd have checked when I got home, of course, but still. A two-fer lapse on a Tuesday morning. Not sure how that should be scored.
Later still. I have no idea if that was a good or a bad performance at today's lesson. Arrived early, took a couple of pictures, sat down and played along with Neil Young's Heart Of Gold but just a bit faster than I've been able to play it in practice. Oof! One can get one's fingers royally screwed up when you jack it up to a speed faster than your fingers. You can. Something I demonstrated.
Still, a nice day. Not sure what I'll do for dinner. I was exactly at the right weight this morning on the scale, so we seem to finally have the weight covered. He said, taking his eye off the problem ball.
Evening. An interesting set in modern times French detective thing seems to have replaced Maigret on Tuesday nights at six and so I watched it with some apprehension, deciding it was interesting, the woman cop in this one at least not doing anything too stupid (wandering unarmed into a dark warehouse filled with serial killers, for example, a seemingly favorite move by more than one of the Scandinavian detective/reporter heroines).
Conveniently it ended just when the very last chapter of the Korean Monday-Tuesday series I've been complaining about started. It had what I admit was an interesting twist or two at the end, but still held tight to every and all tear-jerking aside, if these series actually do jerk tears out of their target audience.
The six o'clock weekly series repeat at nine, so back at ten to see what they'd run after it and discovered they'd run a second chapter in the series that ran to eleven. Eleven. Did I stay up and watch? Of course, we're on our well worn road to ruin here, at least when it comes to diet and our stay up late taste in bed time entertainment. On a Tuesday. Excitement. We usually don't get to excitement before Fridays and only then when the neighbors are having a party.
You go to parties?
No, but the sounds thumping through the apartment walls are rather exotic, bringing back flashes of episodes of my youth (that I can still vaguely recall) and that's pretty hot stuff around here in Oakland.