Monday. Tired and so lights out early at eight, awakening this morning at six-fifteen to get up, add an extra layer of clothing while dressing and head out to breakfast. Cold, yes, but arriving just after seven to a warm restaurant and have a plain waffle with sliced bananas and strawberries for breakfast. Couldn't think of anything other when I ordered, but it's turned out well. No need to gamble.

Signs of sun breaking through walking back, still overcast now that I'm home. They're saying no rain until late in the day Wednesday lasting then through Thursday. A clear week to then follow.

A haircut and another Protime blood thinner test tomorrow, so maybe think about laundry today. I think I have enough soap left to do the deed, but it's close. Couldn't hurt to give it a try.

Later. Laundry today? Hey? Cleaned off the old magazines from beside the bed and took them downstairs to the paper bin, running into my next door neighbor whom I knew does her laundry on Mondays. This is Monday. Why would I think to do laundry today when my day unwritten day is Tuesday and that blood test and haircut are scheduled, not for tomorrow, but Wednesday? Was I thinking it was Tuesday? How confused are we right now? Were we? Let's hope this isn't a portent for the rest of the week. Life.

You're babbling.

Except the confusion, albeit low key, was real. Just not thinking. Are we now good at not thinking as well as not writing clearly? You read about these things becoming more common as you grow older.

Later still. Still overcast, no sun, so decided to walk to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription refill setting out along the lake, the phone ringing just as I entered the white column pergola. An automated voice saying my prescription refill had been held up until further notice. Well, at least I hadn't walked all that far and so back to the apartment.

There's a memorial gathering at the white column pergola at eight this evening. I'm fighting the idea of walking to it and back in the dark with a camera. I suspect I'll talk myself out of going, I suspect, seeing it's dark out right now, that I already have.

Evening. Watched some of the Jeremy Brett of Sherlock Holmes that started at seven. Find it difficult to watch them anymore where I once watched them with interest. Just because the culture, our culture of ours, has changed over these years, dragging me with it? I'm sure others watch with pleasure. Or do they? I have no idea.

Charlie Rose turned out to be interesting and so watched Charlie, dialing into it some fifteen minutes after it had started at eight. Gotta get better at not doing that, dialing in fifteen minutes after things have started. Crowd noises in the distance from the white column pergola, the support gathering for the lives lost in the warehouse fire.