Anyway, time now to catch up on the guitar (we'll need a couple of good days to do that) and take care of one or two things that have been on my list to take care of now for months (some have been for months, some only seem as if they've been there for months). Otherwise who knows? Maybe The Shadow do, but I certainly don't. There's a certain freedom in that I guess.

Later. So we aren't very ambitious, not something new for a Monday, first day of the week. Even for the retired.

A bus downtown to have a caramel coffee and a pumpkin square at the Rotunda building on an overcast morning, a walk then to the City Center to sit for a bit. Looking at the watch I had another half hour to wait, so I ambled around Old Oakland, catching the bus with a minute to spare. And that was that, I was flat.

Still, we are now into the early afternoon, a slight slice of sun creeping through the window now and again, but just a slice, more like a flash. The guitar, I think. No way around it. Once I sit and get going it will go right along, it's just this old starter motor of mine. Made in Detroit. Something more modern from say Beijing and I'd be up on a scoot.

Beijing?

Well, Stuttgart. Don't BMW's and such reliably start?

This is hopeless.

Later still. A good solid session or two on the guitar once I'd gotten it tuned and up and running, the product of about two minutes. So good. Otherwise goofing off, forgetting I needed to get another blood test last Friday and putting it off to be done this morning. We'll get it tomorrow morning. We will. The blood thinner, you understand. Don't want it to get too thin or too thick and it was too thin on the last test so we made an adjustment and now these need to be checked to see that they're working. Last Friday. Don't delay. He said.

You don't seem any more coherent than you did earlier.

We're doing OK. It's a Monday. We're still aware under here somewhere.

Evening. Some more guitar: good. We've accomplished what we wanted with the guitar today. A Netflix movie, having skipped the six o'clock Italian thing, and to bed now at what may turn out to be a decent hour. Well, before eleven, that's an hour less than decent. Maybe an hour an a half. My epitaph: an hour less than decent (but only an hour).