Rose At Eight
Monday. For whatever reason I bailed on Masterpiece Theater last night and went to bed not all that long after nine. Nothing I wanted to watch on the tablet (it seems to have made its presence felt these last several weeks) and so to sleep. Beep. Up with the alarm, off to breakfast on another overcast morning, deciding on the plain waffle with sliced bananas and strawberries to carry on with these “be careful with the diet” thoughts. Avoid the foods that lead to the ocular stuff. Don't need no more ocular stuff.
They were pumping cement when I drove by the construction site on the way home, we'll go out later and see if we can find a couple of photographs that show their progress. Harder to do as they build ever higher. Otherwise feel good, the head clear, the occasional ambitious thought to undertake this or that. A good sign for the beginning of a Monday around here in Oakland.
Later. A walk over to the construction site to take the usual set of pictures. They were laying the cement for a large portion of the second floor and so there were a number of trucks feeding the overhead pump, some twenty plus workers settling it all in place. Overcast, though, and the pictures look it.
Back to the apartment to lie down for a pleasant fuzzy-headed hour, rather nice, up then to take the bus downtown to pick up the two prescription refills I'd been told would be ready last Saturday. Wasn't really hungry so I figured I'd pick up the prescriptions, skip any thoughts of lunch and just catch the bus as it was returning, maybe take a couple of more pictures at the construction site.
Which I did, except the prescriptions weren't ready, said they wouldn't receive them in until morning. Well. I was using the refills as an excuse to get out the door, no harm done, but Rite Aid really does need work with their staff and customer relations, change the impression they're a place where you go to shop, yes, but end up often as not standing in line and ignored.
Now, now.
Indeed, but some truth in that.
Evening. A slow end to an afternoon, although none of the ocular related stuff appeared to further cloud the mind. Just the usual clouded mind. A Death In Paradise I've seen before at seven, but will probably watch again, maybe continue with Charlie Rose at eight.
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