Saturday. To bed again at a decent hour, but watching whatever on Netflix for far too long, to sleep then after ten, awakening but once around two, up with the alarm to head out the door on a sunny Saturday morning. Well, dark when I awoke and drove to breakfast, but sun as I was driving home and it seems to be here for the rest of the day now that I've settled in.

A Saturday farmers market in the usual place, maybe we'll walk by, otherwise nothing going on I'm aware of to pull me any distance outside with a camera. But the attitude is good, we'll make do, even if it's something we've done too many times before and will do again too many times in the future. That seems to be the current life. I'm sure we'll complain, but won't lift a finger to make a change.

Are we bitter?

More there's only just so much you have to say this early in a day.

Later. Two hours lying in bed, most of it asleep. No complaints. If I needed the sleep, I got the sleep, but still? Why all the staying up late, not seemingly caring until morning?

A walk to the bus stop, thinking I'd head to the City Center for something to eat, walked outside and realized I needed a warmer outfit and so back to change, deciding to skip the bus and walk along the lake and then on to the farmers market. Sun, fresh air: better to take it here and skip the downtown altogether.

Nothing to keep me at the farmers market, nothing popping into view demanding a picture as I was passing through and so on to the ice cream shop to sit with two scoops in a paper cup. Nothing more I wanted on Lakeshore and so a walk the short distance to the bus stop opposite the theater to miss a bus by what I figure was two or three minutes. What the hell? Downtown, as easy to dismiss the idea again as not and so back to the apartment. Home. Take it easy. Lie down for the while, watch something on television, watch something on the tablet.

Evening. Watched more of the newly released Mozart in the Jungle on Amazon and Grey's Anatomy on Netflix, enough to think I've seen enough of the both to last for a life month. It doesn't take much time anymore to realize it's the same cleverly camouflaged dumb plot that passes through you like junk food, all candied calories and cholesterol.

We are at a Saturday dead end?

We are writing this the next morning, the memory of the evening (other than the obvious time in front of the tablet) a bit fuzzy. A decent enough evening, the sinus thing halfway manageable, but nothing else going on. A flat place on the continuum. It's winter, it's cold (for California) and we, deep down inside, secretly want to be hibernating.