Yes, I watched Aliens on television last night and didn't get to bed until eleven. Sunday today, no meters running, so no need to set the alarm. The morning restaurant wouldn't be crowded and I wouldn't have to worry about hogging one of their larger tables for the two hours it takes to skim read through three Sunday papers.

Home to take a look at yesterday's entry. If I were writing, rather than babbling, I'd have cut it to pieces and put it back together in half the words with twice the clarity, but I only skimmed it, corrected the very obvious mistakes (more like typos: how did they get through the cracks when I was writing and then checking it yesterday?) and then went to bed for a nap. An good hour's plus nap.

The Super Bowl today. Have no idea when it starts, but I see it's running on Fox and they're in the middle of the pre-game show. The last thing in the world I need to see or hear is a Super Bowl pre-game show so we've turned the heat on in the living room and plan to fiddle about here for the rest of the afternoon while the Super Bowl burns.

At least the head feels better than it did when I returned. Is it only when I sit at the computer and attempt to write that I notice the foggy state of the head? I'm not foggy reading the papers over breakfast. The fact I had two strips of bacon with scrambled eggs? Bang! Takes effect immediately? Feels alright now, but earlier, well, earlier I gave up and went to bed. A mine field, this navigating after whatever age.

Later. The rain seems to have stopped, so a walk over to the nearby drive-in to pick up a turkey burger (no cheese, no onions) and bring it back home for a late lunch, maybe a late lunch/dinner. A photograph of the construction site at the bottom of my hill, the plywood fence facing my side still not filled with graffiti as was on this side the night after it was erected.

I don't go all that far out of my way to photograph graffiti, but I do take pictures and have an interest. This one was new, tacked to a pole by my bus stop near Grand, a photograph without explanation. I've seen a few of these. I think of them as a style all in and of themselves, images of whatever without any indication of reason or purpose. I rather like them, they at least make me stop and look and think. Foggy headed think, but none the less appreciated.

Back now at three, the game starting at three-thirty. The pre-game show has been running for at least the last three hours and I'll occasionally take a look to see what's going on. Too stylized in a way I obviously don't appreciate, a football game dramatized as a clash of Titans, a War of Worlds, a struggle of nations, but something you need to be aware of if only to say you retain an even minuscule awareness of the culture. The game is still the game, though, and watching it a different matter.

Later still. Twenty-two to nothing at half time. I haven't been watching, but keeping it on in the background with the occasional session on the guitar in front of the screen to see how it was progressing. I was a 49er's fan in the Seattle playoffs although coming originally from Seattle. I keep my profile low when I'm up at the family parties in Seattle. So. We'll see. Another half remaining.

The sun out there now, a late afternoon sun, they're saying a good day tomorrow, maybe rain later in the week. Still in a drought. Never ending, these weather problems.

Evening. A Sherlock Holmes this evening at ten, this time stating it's one of the new Benedict Cumberbatch versions and so I suspect I'll bail and get to bed early. Before ten.