Saturday. Awoke briefly three times during the night, but slept in until six-thirty, running fifteen minutes late. An excuse to take the car this morning instead of walking and so I did, arriving by seven, the restaurant open and so settled in with the papers on what looks to be a cooler, but decent day ahead.

The chicken apple sausage, scrambled eggs, country potatoes, toast, fruit cup and coffee for breakfast, the weight on the scale finally less than a pound over target this morning, finishing up by eight-thirty and head back home after breakfast, the usual selfie in the lobby when I arrived. Posted yesterday's entry and settled in for the weekend.

There's a dance festival in Jack London Square at two later this afternoon and I'm thinking, since the head seems to be behaving and the sinus-upper palate isn't too far out of line, of going. I remember photographing one of these in the past, be nice to get out and photograph another this afternoon.

Later. Tired, a nap and then another nap or at least a zoning out on the bed until it was time to head to Jack London Square and flaked out on catching a bus to take pictures. The dance festival runs through tomorrow, but we'll leave it at that. I'm growing weary of my will I, won't I crap. Won't seems now to be the habit.

Evening. More time watching an English police series set in Liverpool that I found I needed to turn on subtitling in order to make out some of the characters through their accents. Odd series in that I'm not sure I like either of the main characters, but the story line has kept my interest.

Nobody has a clue what that means if they're not familiar with the series and even then most of what you're saying without clearer analysis is just babble.

Babble can be your friend in protecting you from facing your lack of thinking after a certain number of years.

Best to just stop right now.