Thursday. Nine hours sleep, last night. For me that's a good one or two hours more than I've been getting at home. I've been considering eight hours good: get eight hours and you're home free. Yet I've gotten nine, ten, eleven hours here in Portland. A statistical blip on the radar of life? Who knows, we'll enjoy it while we can, but if I continue to get nine and ten hours here and then immediately fall back to eight and fewer in Oakland I'm going to fret.

You're sleeping in as late as you like here. You get up at six in Oakland. Maybe try getting up at nine instead.

And walk, rather than drive, to breakfast. You may have a point, Sherlock.

Later A drive down through and beyond Portland to an island of some kind in the river, fairly deserted in the winter it seems, more popular in the summer. One or two pictures. A drive then back to the house getting caught in a traffic jam caused by what turned out to the an accident of some kind, inching along for a good forty five minutes. Still, a good afternoon.

Later still. About an hour's nap. Feel better, the evening ahead, maybe get to bed a little early, see how this sleeping thing works out.