Later. Well, that was a little dumb. More than a little dumb. I checked Google for directions to Big O, but didn't write them down and missed a turn that caused me to drive around the area not finding their street. I've been there in the last year, but I'd taken a different route. Confusing. Back to the apartment where workmen are moving a crane into place to do something or other to the building, so the entrance to the garage is now blocked and I'm stuck here inside for what they're saying will be another four hours. OK. It's raining. Almost raining. Big O tomorrow. UPS is arriving later, I'll wait for them, do something around here to keep me otherwise amused. Something to get the place in shape for the apartment manager who'll be coming in to take care of Ms. Emmy while I'm gone, not shock her with my less than meticulous house keeping. But I've mentioned this before.

How bad is it really?

In the real world, of which I know little, it's messy, yes, but not that messy yes. I live alone, I don't have visitors, I don't do much to mess things up. Sometimes there's a dish or two in the kitchen sink. I play with the cameras but I'm reasonably anal with the cameras, so they're pretty much in place. The rugs are reasonably clean if you're not too picky. There's lighting equipment in the living room along opposite walls, but not all that much lighting equipment for a bachelor photographer to have lying around. There are photographs taped to the walls above my computer area, seventy or so eight by tens, but they're nicely taped and most everything else is framed. Lots of them framed. Keeps me entertained.

And the nudes?

Nothing in the way of nudes. I haven't shot all that many: three rather mild studio sessions done years ago. Many many pictures of attractive women, of course, but they're almost all candid portraits, the stuff you see on artandlife, one or two maybe in a mildly provocative off the shoulder ensemble. Nothing too out of place. Besides, my apartment manager likes me and thinks I'm a swell, if slightly eccentric, old fellow. Not odd fellow, old fellow. But we like to be careful and not push any of it so far as to lose our “he's a good old coot” creds over something so silly and easy to avoid.

Later still. They continue to work on what I guess are the awnings on the building and the entrance to the basement garage continues to be blocked by their crane, but I managed a walk down to the bank and then the post office to take care of a couple of things (and get out of the house). They delivered another six of the DVD binders I first bought through Amazon last month, I'm now ready for serious archiving of all of my images. We're making progress there, yes we are, but slowly. Always slowly. One must be level headed in the management of one's time.

Still two packages in the pipeline, one still due later today; one due, I hope, before I leave for Portland as it contains two pair of jeans, two pair of jeans with a thirty-two inch waist, a size I now suspect is about right. I can remember, long ago, thinking, well, how light might I have to be to wear pants with a thirty-one inch waist (and a thirty-one inch inseam)? About the weight I am now? Close to it?

UPS arrived, seven boxes down in the lobby, one small one addressed to me. A sign it's getting closer to Christmas, I would think.