The late afternoon sun is shining in through the glass doors and I am writing this in longhand. I wrote a novel once in longhand with an old Shafer fountain pen. Scribble it out, mark it up, type it on the Smith Corona electric, mark it up and retype it until I'd drained every bit of life out of it. Common technique. This is being written with a rollerball. Nice black ink, but none of the variable line quality you get with pressure and angle using a fountain pen. I've considered buying another one, something exotic, a Mont Blanc plus maybe, but that's just me with more money than brains.

So, to bed early, get some sleep, write this up at the office in the morning. My legs and lower back ache from the walking, but nothing serious. I'm feeling much better about walking and I've been thinking about rain gear, not only for work, but shooting parades and events I've skipped in the past because of rain. I missed a San Francisco Chinese New Year Parade and maybe I'd have gone if I'd had the gear to protect the equipment. Interesting photographs in the rain, both black and white and color, but you have to get off your butt and my butt has a propensity, a proclivity, a veritable magnetic affinity for warmth and comfort. I have similar compulsions about hot baths and warm beds. A sign of advancing age, perhaps. Or sense.

No computer, no pictures for two days. Saturday I'll unpack boxes and put the bed together while I wait for the power people to come in and flip the switch. Can't this be handled over the Internet? Somebody has to come to my cave and flip a switch?