Saturday. Awakened from a seemingly a solid night's sleep at ten minutes to six, got up at the usual time and walked to breakfast under overcast skies, arriving to find the patio set up and so settled in at my usual table with the papers, one other table with two diners arriving, eating and departing before I'd finished. Not a bad start.

The plain waffle with sliced bananas and strawberries, fruit cup and coffee, finishing up before nine again to walk back home to snap pictures of the usual flowers, the step firm, the head in a good place.

Rah! Rah!

Indeed. Whatever aftereffects of the shot, if there were aftereffects other than the sore arm, seem to have cleared up. It's not really easy to tell, what with the usual day to day fuzziness and the like that now makes up our day(s).

Home to take the selfie, sit at the computer and start processing the pictures, giving up and putting off finishing any of this right here.

Later. I did get head outside briefly just to say I'd stuck my nose out the door, taking a picture of the lake from a point halfway down my hill. Otherwise watched some golf in Prime, watched a Netflix series or two I'm able to handle in small increments before giving up and that's been the afternoon.

Evening. Watching the first twenty minutes of The Harder They Fall at eight, a 1956 black and white movie starring Humphrey Bogart. Like Humphrey Bogart, evidently didn't like the movie and so quit and went to bed before nine. Nothing I want to listen to on the radio on Sunday nights and so lights out by ten.