I did manage to get out the door to pick up cat food, oranges and apples. Oh, and a quart of milk. And kitty litter (sorry Ms. Emmy about the kitty litter). I also got out the door later for a walk - cleared the head, which was nice, a factor that may keep me doing it - and now I'm sitting at the computer in the late afternoon thinking maybe a flask of sake. Makes the head feel better. So many thoughts to juggle, so many ways to rationalize my way into trouble.

You keep the sake under control. What's this about?

The foggy headed tired feeling makes me less interested in writing, less interested in journeying on far off photographic adventures in such exotic climes as Berkeley and San Francisco. Still, one day feeling punk, one day feeling good: write on good, take pictures on punk, everything will then turn out for the better. Sake has a certain facility for making all this seem rational. And sake, let me tell you, even when you're retired, is most affordable. Well, with my palate and in my opinion. For someone who once spent time in the premium wine business, who learned through constant practice what the really great wines were about, I'm awfully, um, fond of cheap sake. Heated in a microwave oven.

People are reading this with horror. They'll write you off as an alcoholic.

When I stop writing about sake is when you need to wonder. We've been rolling along all these years watching the edge without floating over.

Oh, and yes. I filed my taxes. Owed them too many dollars that will be wired out of my checking account tomorrow. My assumption is this will be the last year of this nonsense as I'll no longer have the income. I'm not sure what the tax rules are once you're on Social Security, but it wouldn't surprise me if my total tax bill this year will be less than what I just sent them to square up the last. Some satisfaction in this, I think. Here in Oakland.