I'm to meet Mr. E late this afternoon at an Oakland BART station for a trip to the city to hook up with the usual crew, this time at an (Irish?) bar we haven't been to before. Well, a place owned by a friend of Mr. E's that none of us have been to before where we'll have to take a bus or a cab to get to it. I'm going, but I'd rather not, what with the parking downtown (I'll take a bus down and a cab back, as my bus stops running at eight, to hell with any parking). Or am I too predictable? Grousing before eleven in the morning? Probably. Writing these things down makes it somewhat obvious.

Later. Dropped the computer off. They were thinking heat, one of the fans clogged or, perhaps, failure of the small CPU fan. Makes sense. That would make it easy. What are the chances any of this will be easy? Well, sometimes strange and unlikely things happen. Not here, but I've heard stories, rumors.

Later still. A walk by the bank to make a deposit, some of the local television stations covering the one day “strike” led by the Grand Lake theater to protest the current two dollar an hour parking meter rates that have been extended from six to eight in the evening, doing little on camera vignettes in doorways looking for clever camera angles. I can see why for a movie theater the extra two hours would be a problem. In walking through the area I could see more open spaces available than I did before they raised the rate.

I wonder if the additional fifty cents an hour will increase their overall take? Are fewer people parking, paying for less time, wiping out any benefit? I admit it was nice to find a space in front of the computer store carrying a big floor standing computer inside, but I don't want to see the theater go out of business either. Where else can you find a theater with such outrageous in your face political stuff splattered across their marquee? Nowhere I've lived before. Of course, now, if I didn't like their politics.... Life can be complicated, can it not?

Later again. A BART ride to San Francisco, a couple of hours at Harrington's (instead of whatever this new place was we were thinking about) over two glasses of Guinness, a ride back on my own and a then taxi to the apartment, the head with a nice laid back buzz, but nothing to get in the way of finishing the day with a good evening. Good. No word from the computer shop, no messages on the phone, but we can deal with that tomorrow.